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THOUSANDYEARS 

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YESTERDAYS 



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A STRANGE STORY 
OF MYSTIC REVELATION" 




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COPYRIGHTED 1920 BY 
THE COLLEGE PRESS 

All rights reserved 






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PREFACE 

One may or may not believe in the strange theories of 
continuous existence of personality, and one may reject the more 
or less unscientific theories regarding the probability of reincarnation, 
but one cannot reject with the same absoluteness the apparent 
completeness of memory's -records. Almost every one has experi- 
enced the sudden conscious realization of facts released from the 
storehouse of the memory involving incidents long forgotten in 
the conscious recollection ; and coupled with the release of such 
facts as one knows were stored away within the present span of 
earthly life, there comes an array of incidents, associated and 
unassociated, which could not have been stored in the memory 
through any experience in this life. 

Psychology offers as an explanation for the possession of such 
seemingly inexperienced facts, the theory that in our dreams we 
charge our minds w T ith experiences which are not consciously 
realized at the time or possibly forgotten in our waking state, but 
which return to consciousness by association of ideas. Another 
theory offered attempts to explain the mass of inexperienced 
incidents and ideas as come from the subconscious mind, as being 
the result of the processes of imagination. 

Shakespeare wrote : 

And as imagination bodies forth 
The Form of things unknown — the poet's pen 
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 
A local habitation and a name. 

But, such theories leave the cause and nature of dreams and 
imagination unexplained. To conceive of the mind mechanically 

creating from nothing those wondrous things which the imagination 
of man has given us in the past and present, is more difficult than 
to conceive of unconscious experiences — or experiences of the mind, 
stored away in the memory, resulting from forgotten realizations. 
Leaving aside the prophetic nature of some dreams and likewise 
the prophetic nature of many things seemingly drawn from the 
imagination, we still have a great mass of facts and incidents 
resulting from dreams and imagination, which coincide with experi- 
ences, facts and incidents which have had actuality in the past, 
outside of our conscious knowledge. And very often these actualities 



6 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS . 

were in the remote past, in a period beyond one's present span of 
life. How came these facts and incidents to be stored away in 
the memory to be recalled, reviewed, analyzed, in the present span 
of life? This is the question which confronts the scientist today. 

The present story attempts to throw some light on this question 
and its possible answer. That the matter is presented in story form 
rather than in heavy, scientific arguments, does not argue that the 
principles involved are without scientific foundation, or that the 
process whereby the "Yesterdays" are revealed is an unnatural, 
uncommon, or unscientific process. It is, in fact, typical of the 
experiences of many individuals and may find its similitude in 
some experiences of the reader. 

With the sole idea that, in a pleasant, or at least fascinatingly 
strange story, some will be brought to the threshold of realization 
that the partially explored activities and functions of the mind 
contain many profound mysteries and principles of considerable 
import, and that those so illumined may be tempted to seek for 
more light in the Chamber of the Unknown — this book is offered 
to those constantly asking for the unusual in fiction and the 
mystical in romance. 

THE AUTHOR. 

Temple of Alden, 

Valley of Amorc, California, 

November 25, 19 19. 






CONTENTS 



Introduction - - 

Chapter I — The Strange Diary 
Chapter IJ — Through the First Veil - 

Chapter J II — Beyond the First Veil 

Chapter IV — Ix the Shadows of the Past 

Chapter V — Transition 

Chapter VI — Resurrection 

Chapter VII — The Threshold - 

Chapter YIII — Illumination 

The Rosicrucians (Publisher's Note) 



PAGE 

9 

11 
16 
22 
29 
43 
49 
58 
71 
78 




INTRODUCTION 

Yesterday the idea commonly prevailed that Religion and 
Science were antagonistic. Today they are thought to be essen- 
tially dissociated. Tomorrow they will be known to be one. 

The basal reason for present-day dissociation is found in the 
fact that religion in its inception is understood to be revelation, 
and in its individual experience, subjective. While on the other 
hand science is considered as a matter of research with a minimum 
of inspiration or revelation and as objective in its realm. Psychology 
being the one effort at reconciliation of the two. 

It is not generally known that for thousands of years there 
are those who have taught the unity of truth. This body of 
students reveals in the present volume that which may be accepted 
as a more popular expression of their teachings, and as the pioneer 
of others which will be forthcoming. It is presented as evidence 
that science is a matter of inspiration and revelation, as is religion. 

Granted then, that science is to be deductively realized and 
then found to be true by an inductive process of investigation, 
the consummate skill revealed in the story of dealing with the 
science of psychology in the law T s of consciousness will be recog- 
nized in their presentation as experience in the form of a story. 
The understanding student may discover very many laws and 
principles other than psychological hidden in the text which are 
also contributory to the clearness and force of its message. 

As a Priest of the Church, remembering that whenever the 
Church was able to foresee any fact of science, or science anticipated 
the Church, it has been necessary to reconcile the one to the other, 
I rejoice in the possibility of a better understanding here presented 
as an occasion for readjustment, answering to the demand of the 
present-day growing insistence upon the unity of Truth. 

Among the many points for readjustment which constitute 
the problem of today, both Theological and Psychological, are 
the following: 

(i) That which is known as Metapsychosis or Reincarnation. 
Theologically unnecessary today, it must be reckoned with tomorrow. 
For, reincarnation is demonstrable. It may be discovered in the 
teachings of the early Church and is found in the scriptures of the 
Old and New Testaments bv those who will read the words in 



IO A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

the light of their most apparent meaning rather than by the 
dimness of individual precedent and prejudice. 

(2) To read and understand scripture just as it is, is not the 
least of the problems of today as is understood by the reference 
in the present story to "And God breathed into his nostrils the 
breath of life, and man became a living Soul." Together with 
this may be mentioned the problem of bringing into popular 
appreciation the complete Bible including the so-called Apocrypha. 
And the full recognition of other Sacred Writings as subsidiary. 

(3) The problem of apprehending Immortality as a present 
consciousness and not necessarily as a dogmatic statement or the 
conclusion of a rational process. 

(4) The problem of bringing into popular acceptance the 
unencumbered mystical appreciation of prayer as the story in 
this book makes clear. This understanding has been within the 
consciousness of many an earnest and devout thinker in a theology 
of experience which, however, has fallen short of expression by 
pen or speech. 

(5) The problem of duly recognizing the holiness of birth 
apart from any glaring unconventionalities. 

And there are many others. Most of them are beautifully 
set forth in the following pages. 

I cannot refrain from calling attention to St. John, 1 :g 
(Revised Version) as a most remarkable corroboration of the 
author's elucidation of Light in connection with birth: "There 
was the true Light, even the Light which lighteth every man 
coming into the world." 

Interesting as is the story, it is not intended for light 
reading. It is to stir the depths of most profound thought, and 
urge to the most thorough investigation. Let the merely curious 
beware of disappointment. Here the sincere soul will rejoice. 

GEORGE R. CHAMBERS. 

St. Paul's Parish, 

Harlan, Iowa. 



CHAPTER I 
The Strange Diary 

To the man of iron nerve, steel business sharpness and intense 
concentration to business — like William Howard Rollins — the 
ending of a business year is like the ending of a segment of life. 

The closing of a fiscal year brings with the closing hours the 
summary, the review, of acts done and undone, profits made and 
lost, prestige and power gained or decreased, greater success 
attained or unattained. The closing of the fiscal year marks a 
milestone in the cycle of the business; it is an entity, a thing 
unto itself, and must be considered as an independent lifetime 
in the evolution of the business. 

To William Howard Rollins, it meant all this, and more. 
The fiscal years of his business began and ended at midnight 
of the calendar years. To him January first was the day of 
rebirth, personally and in every business sense. To his associates, 
his closest friends, this meant, socially also, for Rollins was reputed 
to be all business, with nothing but business to interest him. It was 
his whole world; with it the day began and ended, life's activities 
came and went. There was no other world for him, they said. 

There was reason to believe this. Rollins was not only a 
mighty power in the commercial world, an attractive figure in 
the business circles of the largest American cities, but he had no 
club life but with business clubs, he attended no social dinners 
except those given by the Rotary and other commercial clubs, 
he had no pleasures except those which afforded, through relaxation, 
increased power for business — and he was not married. He lived 
In an unpretentious home with his mother, and avoided all 
attempts on the part of his social equals to interest him in the 
charms of their daughters. 

His bachelor home, presided over by an adoring mother, was 
ideal to this man of peculiar ideas. Naturally he had but few 
visitors and never entertained in his home, if he entertained at all 
But those who knew his home life, or those little phases of it 
snatched from short visits, said that neither luxury nor indifference 
manifested itself in any of the rooms except the private study. 
Here there were many paintings and one would judge that Rollins 
was especially fond of landscapes and etchings of rural scenery. 



12 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

Yet no one could recall having found Rollins even motoring into 
the open country to admire nature in all its unpainted splendor. 
Books were not his hobby, for there was but one small bookcase 
in his study, and this had frosted glass doors which were always 
locked. What books were thus hidden and what their natures 
might be, not one of his intimate friends knew. A large safe, 
enclosed in a mahogany cabinet, and a large wooden chest bound 
with ornamented brass bands and corner-pieces, were the only other 
interesting or odd furnishings of the room. The large easy chair, 
the broad reading table, the standing reading light, the standing 
ash-tray, the pillowed footstool — these merely suggested that at 
times Rollins relaxed and read. But what he read in addition to 
the New York Times and the Literary Digest, none, except 
possibly his mother, knew. 

But on this evening, the last hours of the closing fiscal year, 
the hours just before midnight when the New Year, 191 7, would 
be ushered in, Rollins was reading in his study and . he was 
reading his diary. 

His mother had retired, the house was still and Rollins was 
in a world alone. The gas logs in the open fire-place of the 
study were entwined by the blue and yellow flames that dimly 
lighted the shadows surrounding the end of the room, while 
near by, seated in his large chair, dressed in his very plain smoking 
jacket, Rollins was reading by the direct rays of the movable 
reading lamp, which cast but little light about the room. 

The Diary seemed to be his book-of-all-books. With the 
same regularity that he conducted each affair of his daily business 
routine, he made his notations in this book nightly before retiring. 
For years, in fact, since his college days, he had kept these daily 
records of the day's activities. Naturally, the twenty or more 
books, covering over twenty years' business career, contained notes 
and comments almost exclusively of business affairs. Each of 
these books had become, in its turn, his daily guide, his bible, 
his record of thoughts, of things to do and of things done — with 
occasionally a thing left undone. 

And tonight he was to close the 19 16 diary! As was his 
custom, he must pass over the pages one by one and see, by the 
check marks opposite each notation, what important things had 
been accomplished and especially what others had been left unaccom- 
plished, that he might enter them in the new diary and plan to 
accomplish them in the next year. This was the task he had set 
for himself this New Year Eve, while outside the city was cele- 
brating as only New York City can, the last hours of the old year. 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 13 

As page after page was turned backward from December to 
the previous month, and from that to October, and on back to 
September, he tell into reveries. In retrospection he was living 
over again each day of each month. Once in a while a smile 
would pass over his tense expression and at other times a stern 
look would come, as though he were about to issue some serious 
command, or make some weighty decision. 

Then came the date of September 12th. Hut one notation 
appeared on the page. Like many others, it was a command unto 
himself. It read, briefly: "Find out who painted the Spring 

landscape signed Raymond ." Immediately the entire tense 

attitude of Rollins changed. He was plunged by this short 
notation into another world, a world of speculation, curiosity, 
pleasantness and — challenge. The smile passed from his face and 
there came the look of defiance. Why has it been impossible to 
learn the painter's last name? Why is it so obliterated when the 
picture is otherwise so well preserved ? These were the questions 
that passed through his mind. 

The painting referred to hung upon the walls of his study. 
It was an old masterpiece, a very old and costly painting. Its 
age and its masterful work were testified to by its technic, by 
all the signs and earmarks that constitute a real old master-work, 
despite the fact that the dealer who sold it to him could not name 
the creator of it. The dealer had promised to find out; other 
experts in the valuation of paintings had examined it and had 
agreed that it was the work of a master unknown, for there 
was not know T n to be any other large landscape signed by a 
similar name. Not even the first initial of the last name could 
be deciphered, though apparently it had been signed there. The 
first name of Raymond, however, gave no clue. No such name 
was known among those of the old Masters in connection with 
landscapes of such rare work. It could not have been the first 
or only work produced by the painter; such skill as was shown 
in it is not attained except by long experience and much work in 
evolving a personality of technic. 

For five years the diaries contained on the pages dated 
September 12th — the date on which the painting was purchased — 
the command: "Find out who painted the Spring landscape." Yet, 
with the money to pay for research work, with dealers ready to 
please Rollins with every favor that might lead to other sales, 
with a friend in Paris who connived with artists of repute, with 
all his sincere interest, unrelenting desire, and intense curiosity, 
he could not learn the painter's name. To him it was no longer 



1 4 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

a mystery, it was a challenge; the secret name defied him, and 
defiance annoyed. Rollins was known as a man who cherished 
a challenge and laughed at defiance in the business world. But 
in this world of art, to which he seemed a stranger, he was defied 
by a simple little thing which even a student of art might wipe 
out of existence through a casual investigation. 

"How many more years will I carry this notation in my 
diaries?" asked Rollins of the spectres of dealers who loomed up 
before him in his reverie. "Five years have passed since I sought 
this knowledge first, and each year adds only to the age of the 
picture and possibly to the occultness of the answer to my question. 
If all trace of the painter is lost now, why hope that future years 
will bring him to light? Time only cloaks mystery and makes it 
more profoundly obscure. Years enhance the arcane and thicken 
the veil that hangs between the known and the unknown. If the 
painting was a thousand years old when I purchased it, it is now 
a thousand and five years old, and next September it w T ill be a 
thousand and six! Before my life is ended and that painting 
passes on to others, it may be — why even a thousand and forty 
years old — for I hope to live at least forty years more. And 
then, what? Will the question, who is the painter, be any nearer 
answering than it is now? The dealer who sold the painting 
to me and many of his associates will be gone then, and, even 
now the man who sold him the painting may be beyond the veil 
and can no longer assist in learning the painter's name. No, the 
future holds no encouragement in my search. I must go back 
to the past, to the days when the painting was new, when it 
hung upon the wall of some old castle, when the name was still 
readable, when — the painter was still living! 

Such were the thoughts that passed through Rollins' mind as 
his eyes wandered from the page of the diary to the blue and 
yellow flames of the gas logs, and he relaxed into speculation 
as to where the painting may have been made and when. The 
name suggested a Frenchman and France, and France suggested 
a world of life and living so alluring! "Why does France appeal 
so and why have I never taken the time to wander through 
its peaceful old towns and quaint old provinces?" The words 
were almost audible in the stillness of the room. And then 
Rollins' mind speculated again. "The war makes it impossible 
to visit France now even though the escape from business were 
possible. But there were days when neither business or other 
affairs would have prevented a summer-time vacation trip to 
France, when all the strange longing for the environment, atmos- 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 1 5 

phere and life of the southern provinces would have been wonder- 
fully appeased by such a trip, and yet France remains but a dream 
of the mind." 

Rollins did not know that his thoughts were identical with 
those of many others who have a strange longing for an unseen 
place which seems to be so familiar, so much a part of themselves 
and yet remains but a dream, a picture or condition of the mind. 

The lateness of the night, the sudden consciousness that 
he was slipping off into wild and unfruitful dreaming, brought / 

Rollins back to the diary in his hand, and to where his fore- #/ 
finger still held the place at the page dated September 12th, 
1916. He w T ould check that to be reentered in the next diary, 
as usual! There was nothing else to do but turn it over to the 
future, to place his question on a future page. 

And then, as he turned back a page in the diary to that 
dated September nth, the strangest thought of all occurred to 
him : why not turn backward and backward the pages of the 
yesterdays to the past and find the great answer there? "If I 
could only turn backward the pages one by one of a thousand 
years of yesterdays as easily as I turn backward the pages of a 
year of yesterdays in this book, I could easily learn about that 
painting." The possibilities astounded him; and as he thought, 
he fell into a light sleep in which he was fully conscious of his 
position before the warm fire of the gas logs, and that he was 
just dreaming a day dream; but the diary in his hand now 
seemed to be an index to pages of the past, to consecutive yester- 
days of many years, and as he dreamed the scenes that came into 
life-like existence in the fireplace, he felt the pages turning one 
by one in the great book in his hands. 

And then came the hour of midnight; the old grandfather's 
clock in the hall outside the room struck its twelve bold strokes 
and before the last had sounded, the city was stirred with the 
bells and chimes, the horns and shrill whistles, announcing the 
birth of another year; and though the sounds did not disturb 
Rollins or arouse him from his dream world, he was conscious 
of the fact that another period of life's cycle was at hand, and 
he turned backward to the first yesterday of the past, in the 
world that lies beyond the veil. 



CHAPTER II 

Through the First Veil 

As his concentration centered upon the open, black space 
above the flames of the fire, his consciousness also entered the 
vacuum of that space as though it were a world to dwell in 
and be a part of its limitless possibilities. And, as the strange 
sensation of entering that miniature world passed over his realiza- 
tion, he felt that he had just passed through a great veil which 
separated the past from the present. Thus, the turning of a 
page in the great book brought with it a peculiar lightness of 
spirit and an awakened state of subconscious reality. Physically, 
his body was still in the chair of the present, but mentally, 
self-ly, he was in the yesterday that was now being created in 
the little world beyond the veil. 

Slowly he realized the story unfolded around him. What a 
strange room there was, yet seemingly familiar. The mahogany 
bed — ah, yes, the little woman, so young and — suffering! There 
are others there — the man with the little satchel, a nurse, and 
another woman. There is sobbing, excitement, expectation. What 
does it mean? Now there come the agonizing cries of the 
young woman, the pleading for relief, the quiet gentle assur- 
ances of the man with the satchel — yes, a physician — tender 
and considerate. The nurse goes to the door and opens it — 
and there enters a tall, fine-looking young man, excited, question- 
ing, hurriedly dropping his hat on a table and rushing toward the 
bedside, but gently stayed by the physician who warns him to 
move slowly and carefully. Tears come to his eyes — his darling 
is suffering — the words so softly said are words of tender love. 
The wife suffers, the pain is agonizing, it lifts her body from 
the bed in paralyzing spasms. The physician holds his watch 
and waits. Can't something be done? The question, inaudibly 
spoken, comes from the mind of the lover, the husband. The 
nurse says kindly: "Time alone will end it all!" The wife is frantic 
now, the pain intense, the suffering beyond reason or human 
endurance; and now she falls back upon her pillow, exhausted. 
She is quiet. The physician is again concerned and lifts her 
left hand; he times her pulse. She moves again. She is 
assisted to her feet; she tries to walk, but she is so weak. She 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 17 

cries: "Harold, Harold, if I had only known, if I had onlv 
known — now I want to die ... it would he hetter . . . better 
than this! Please, Harold, can't you help me? I am so weak, 
I cannot stand the pain again!" 

And then Rollins discovers himself in this scene. He 
feels that he wants to help this poor woman, and he looks 
to find where and what he is in this incident of some past 
day, some yesterday of his life. But he is not there, yet he 
sees, he hears, he knows. How is this? He is in every part 
of that room, yet the others do not see him and he is con- 
scious of the fact that his mind, his innerself, his soul — that 
is i t _his soul t IS THERE WITHOUT A BODY. What, 
then, is he? and where is this incident or where was it? He 
lifts his soul-eyes about to see more of his environment. Above 
him space and — other souls like unto himself, without bodies. 
Each is busily moving in some direction, but he is hovering 
here. Where? Over and in the little house in the country. 
It is early morning, the winds are swaying the trees and whistling 
a continued murmur. The fields are cold and the flowers have 
been touched by frost; fog veils the distant hills and the rising 
sun just tints the heavens above and all is quiet and still without, 
while within the humble home pain and suffering, fear and 
hope, anxiety and expectation intermingle w T ith intensity, while 
casting its shadows across the threshold of life stands the big 
black figure of death. 

And Rollins is but a Soul, waiting and watching! Why 
waiting? Cannot the records of yesterday answer the whys and 
hows of this- sad scene? And then there comes a light! It 
forms a doorway and beyond it a channel. The Channel of 
Life! The words were written in blood over its archway. 
Through that passageway enters the Light of a little Soul. 

The little woman is again stricken. Once more she falls 
to her knees and cries for relief and drops over exhausted. 
Gently she is lifted to the bed while the physician and nurse 
tenderly soothe her hands and brow. 

Spasm after spasm, agonizing screams, heart-rending suffer- 
ing, hour after hour until the sun is high and the day is half 
spent. Through all this the little Soul waited and watched, 
knowing and realizing, hoping, and wanting to ease the hours and 
minutes— but the law! THE LAW MUST BE FULFILLED! 

Then the little Soul, bathed in Light, hovered more closelj 
and contacted the Soul of the suffering woman. The Souls com- 
muned and their inner minds spoke what words could not express. 



1 8 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

The Soul of the woman, the young wife, longed for the home 
of love, the giving of great happiness to the man she loved, 
the Harold who had always been a tender lover, a considerate 
husband. Together they hoped to spend their lives sharing 
each other's jo)^s and" sorrows, and now, perhaps, the end had 
come. The body was slowly losing its strength, the brain was 
terrified with the intensity of the suffering of the flesh, the 
spirit walked in the valley of death while the Soul within 
longed to soothe the aching heart. Bravely had the little woman 
looked forward to the hour when greater joy should come into 
their lives, when their home should be blessed with the cries 
and laughter of the little child. Thoughtfully had the husband 
eased her mind and allayed all fears by his assurances that he 
would be near when the hour came to walk through the land 
of unknown grief and pain. Yet, now he was helpless to do 
more than touch her lips with a kiss and smooth back her 
loosened hair. What if death were to end all their hopes? 
Even in her minutes of intense suffering she could think of 
him ; and the thoughts of how he would suffer if death should 
end it all and if the hopes they had should prove futile, made 
her strive to bear the tests and trials and gave her strength to 
fortify the weakened constitution for each periodic spell. The 
hour must surely come when weakness and ease from pain 
would let her rest and perhaps dream and then — the long cherished 
sound of a babe's little cry would be joyous music to lull the 
senses of the new mother into the forgetfulness of mother- 
hood's first long sleep. 

And then the little Soul blended into the. Soul of the 
expectant mother and quickened it with its divine life, and the 
little woman knew that God was near and that the moment 
was here for the supreme trial of her life. 

Communing, consoling, trusting in the faith of each other, 
knowing full well the infallibility of the law, the weakness of 
human flesh, the temptations of earthly desires — these two Souls 
clung intimately throughout the minutes of closing travail. The 
little Soul looked to the woman in her joyous sorrow to bring 
to the world the body in all its perfect completeness, which 
would serve as the material cloak for its welcome visit to this 
loving home. The little woman, on the other hand, clung 
with outstretched arms to the little Soul and, with the instinct 
of motherhood already born, tried to warm the little Soul into 
staying there that her child might have soul and life, even if 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 19 

she should pass on into the mists of the heavens in her supreme 
sacrifice. 

What a relationship! Nowhere in all the wondrous processes 
of nature, nowhere in all the principles of creation, was the 
law of God, the marvels of His ways, so beautifully, sacredly and 
simply exemplified. 

Then came the crucial moment. Life in the little woman's 
body seemed to be at its lowest ebb. The suffering was pitiful. 
Husband, physician, nurse, the woman friend and the little 
Soul in waiting, all felt the sadness, the terrible sorrow that 
pervaded the room. Eyes were wet and hearts were heavy as, 
helplessly, the little woman tried bravely to co-operate w T ith 
nature and fulfill the decree of God that in sorrow and in pain 
shall woman bear the fruit of love! 

Then a gasp! The little woman was lifted high upon 
the mountain-top adjoining the valley of death, and for one 
moment she saw a glimpse of the Heaven of God — and even 
God and the Angels appeared to her and she knew — that — the 
baby's cry — it lived ! — and she was back again in the valley, asleep. 
But where the shadows had been there now sported the little 
spots of sunbeams that forced their way through the foliage 
of the green trees, and they danced upon the green lawns of the 
valley like fairies in the spring-time dance, all jubilant with 
the joy of living. 

The little Soul no longer rested in the aura of the woman's 
Soul. As the little cherub lips of the precious babe opened 
for their first breath of vitalizing air, they caused the lungs to 
exhale the air which held back the Soul, and with an immediate 
inhalation through the nostrils, another divine decree was ful- 
filled: God breathed into man the breath of life and man became 
a living soul.' The little Soul felt itself irresistibly drawn dow r n 
toward the infant body, and found itself in the Chamber of the 
Soul, the Kingdom of the Inner Man. 

The body pulsated ; it was warm ; life was vigorous. The 
little Soul was enthroned on earth within its own palace, to direct 
and to suggest, to dictate and to impel, to urge and to tempt; 
to be the conscience of man, the mind of God, the Master 
Within the Holy Temple. 

And it listened. The mother slept peacefully, the nurse 
tiptoed gently about her duties, the physician watched care- 
fully after the matters of concern. Nearby, in a little cradle, 
rocked the infant body while the Soul within observed and rejoiced. 
At the side of the cradle knelt the husband with tears in his 



20 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

eyes and a quickening of his spirit, for fatherhood was new and 
so wonderful. Carefully he arose, tenderly, humbly, he leaned 
over the babe and covered it with the little hand-crocheted 
blanket the little mother had made in her hours of hopeful waiting. 
Lifting one of the chubby hands he reverently kissed it as 
the representative of all that was divine, all that was sacred, 
all that embodied the love he had for the little woman in the 
corner. Then, placing the little hand down and covering it 
with a blanket, he whispered softly: "Baby man, we will bless 
you as God has done, and your name will be — William Howard 
Rollins!" 

^ ??? Y& "SfS" 

Startled, Rollins came back to consciousness of self and 
place. The picture in the fireplace was rapidly fading and 
Rollins found himself withdrawing from the scene. He was no 
longer a part of that yesterday, the incidents of which had been 
so strangely enacted for him. He was now the man of today, 
the restless, modern, matter-of-fact today. But he knew. He had 
turned back the pages of life's diary to the yesterday of his birth 
and it was his soul that had entered the body of the babe. 
But — what a price motherhood paid ! His little mother, who 
even now slept peacefully upstairs. Could man ever repay the 
suffering woman bravely bears that the unborn child might have 
the very essence of her life — even its very existence if necessary? 
What supreme love! Love divine! The love of God alone 
equaled it — yes, and it is the love of God. 

Thus pondered Rollins until, as tears came fast and the 
heart beat rapidly, the love in his heart for the little woman 
upstairs was about to take him to her bedside to kneel in reverent 
adoration, when the door of his study suddenly opened and 
there stood the little gray-haired woman with pink shawl thrown 
about her and the sweetest smile on her lips. Surprised at 
finding him awake, she said in the kindest tones of loving 
motherliness : 

"Come, William, my little man, it is very late and I was 
worried that you might have fallen asleep; for tomorrow is your 
birthday and I Was just thinking of the day God gave you 
to us. Will you come now? I have your bed all prepared 
for you. Let us go up together. That's a good boy." 

And together the strong, tall, masterful man and the little, 
old, gray, woman, weak and trembling at times, walked side 
by side, arm in arm, out of the room, lighted now only by the 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 21 

pale light of the moon, past the window of the hall to thr 
wide stairway. Ascending together, it seemed, as they entered 
the deeper shadows and disappeared from sight beyond, that 
angels hovered over them — the little mother and her baby man. 



CHAPTER III 

Beyond the First Veil 

Nervously and restlessly, lacking real fatigue, Rollins turned 
from side to side in his bed. Sleep seemed impossible. His 
mind was haunted with the story and the picture he had just 
lived through. 

The curtains at the windows simply turned the beams of 
moonlight into filigree designs upon the darkly carpeted floor, 
and in the far corner of the room the large, old-fashioned mirror 
of great size reflected the one shaft of moonlight which hit 
the white lamp shade upon the small reading table. As Rollins 
gazed at this reflected sphere of white in the mirror, it seemed 
to turn into a pale, beautiful face that smiled at him at times, 
and at other times, wrinkled with pain, became moist with 
tears of suffering. 

Motherhood and the coming of a little soul ! These were 
the entities, the wonderfully ordained things that occupied the 
threshold of his consciousness to such an extent that dormancy 
of thought, so necessary to sleep, was impossible. And he 
had witnessed the birth of his own body and the entrance into 
it of his own soul! What an important yesterday that had 
been ; far more so than any other occupying a place in the last 
twenty years of his business career. Yet, this fact astounded 
the matter-of-fact Rollins. It controverted what had been his 
belief for so many years. There could be nothing more important 
in his life than these yesterdays and todays of business, each of 
which was so carefully chronicled in his sacred diaries! To 
him, the day of birth, like the day of death, had seemed to 
be just the beginning and the end of things; it was the 
period of life between these two points that was essential — 
nothing else. 

Tonight, however, as he lay in the increasingly nervous 
condition, there loomed upon the horizon of his measure of 
essentials, something more or different from the material affairs 
of life. The beginning of life was intensely interesting and 
most certainly important. And, perhaps the end of life was 
equally interesting and important. Much of life's success and 
power depended upon the first hour of life, the hour when the 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 23 

soul entered the infant body. Suppose the soul had failed 
to enter the little body — then what? Well could he recall the 
anxiety experienced by the mother lying in travail, tearful lest 
the soul hovering near might fail to enter and vitalize the 
little body struggling for birth. All the hopes and aspirations, 
plans and ideals stored in the mother's breast were dependent 
upon that one mysterious manifestation of an unknown law — 
whereby the soul in space would be transferred, transplanted, 
so to speak, into the body prepared for it; and the body, lifeless 
except for being infused with the borrowed blood and vitality 
of the mother, would become transmuted into a perfect creation, 
a living soul, a vitalized body. What a wonderful transmuta- 
tion! Could this be the transmutation that the mystics of 
old symbolized and compared with the alchemical process of 
infusing a grosser material with a finer or refined spirit until 
the blending of the two made manifest a third and different 
thing — the refined, perfected creation, the pure gold of the 
universe? 

Yes, what if the soul had not entered the body? Was 
not the soul at such time concerned too, lest it might not fulfill 
the law? In such an event as failure to unite — terrible con- 
templation! — he, the great Rollins of the busines world, would 
not now be here. "Born lifeless" would have been the curt 
and sole dictum of the physician — and the soul now within 
would have returned to — where? 

Rollins was wide awake now. Here was a question or 
two quite as important as any in his business, quite as mysterious 
in its nature as "Who was the painter?" 

He sat uprieht in his bed. He ran his fingers through 
lu's hair and slowly breathed a deep breath — it was almost a 
sad sigh. He was impressed with the importance of his question 
and at the same time was stirred by the very intensity of his 
curiosity. Down stairs the great clock struck one long sonorous 
chime. Rollins could not tell whether it indicated twelve-thirty, 
one, or one-thirty in the morning. It was late and he ought 
to sleep, this he realized; but the question, the all-important 
question was not answered. 

He turned his gaze toward the corner of the room and 
there the face peered at him again in the mirror. It seemed 
to be the face of the mother who prayed for the coming of 
the little soul, and almost unconsciously he stared at it with 
that same questioning gaze known so well in commercial circles 
when Rollins was after the concealed truth. "Tell me." he 



24 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

demanded in stern tones, "tell me, where would that little soul 
of mine have goo* 3 if it had not come into mv hahv body at 
birth?" 

He waited for an answer, and after a pause that seemed 
like the stillness of death in the room, there came to his con- 
sciousness like the whispering of a voice within his soul: "Who 
knoweth not in all these that the hand of the Lord hath wrought 
this ? In whose hand is the soul of every living thing . and 
the breath of all mankind." The words were those of the 
Holy Bible, the twelfth chapter of Job. But to Rollins they 
revealed the Law. "In the presence of the Lord shall all souls 
tarry and rest and await the coming of their day." 

The soul would return to its own realm, to the presence 
of God, to the world of other souls, and — wait! Rollins, 
the man of now, would not be here, but the soul would not 
be lost. There seemed to be consolation in that for Rollins, 
yet, why, he could not have explained then; for until the hour 
of the penetration of the veil of yesterday, the personality of 
Rollins rather than the divinity of the inner man, was all- 
important; and now' — why it seemed that Rollins could have 
felt contented with the knowledge that if the personality of 
himself had been unborn, the soul that would have been his 
own would have lived — and waited. 

Rollins fell back upon his pillow and closed his eyes in 
contemplation. There were two of him there in unison — his 
personal self, Rollins, with the baby body grown into adulthood, 
and the little soul residing within. The one came from the 
blood, the thoughts, the hopes, the desires, the love of his mother, 
the other from — God. 

Thus contemplating, Rollins reviewed again the minutes 
when his little soul, a shapeless, formless, thinking, feeling entity, 
hovered in space awaiting the moment of passage through the 
great Channel. Hovering in space? Where? Again the question 
that came to him then: "How came I there? And from where? 
If I was there within the presence of that little home and 
that little woman that day, where was I the day before the 
birth — the yesterday? Oh! if I could turn back another page 
of life's yesterdays and see the day before this day of birth — to 
see and live again the last day of the yesterlife." 



Whether Rollins fell asleep with that desire in his mind 
or not he could not tell when the night had passed and day 






A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 2$ 

had come again. All lir knew was that a page had been turned 

in the diary of life's cycle and that, ;is he lay there in bed he 
wa> startled by the presence of a greal light near the ceiling. He 
gazed. The ceiling seemed to be gone, limitless space was beyond 
the room, and even the walls of the room now seemed to be blank- 
less, colorless space. Turning from side to side he found upon his 
body the weight and bulk of the great book whose pages indexed 
and recorded his life — the book he had seen but a few hours 
before in his study. Sitting upright again he gazed at its pages 
and found his hand slowly opening to a page marked, Yesterday, 
December 31st. That was the day before his birthday. It was 
the last yesterday of his yesterlife. 

Looking again toward the space above and around him he 
found that the great light which had aroused him was, in fact, 
a mass of smaller, blending lights, each distinctly individual and 
yet so united that the thousands and thousands within range 
of his sight were as an undivided mass. 

Each light moved, moving in a motion that was rhythmical 
and harmonious. There ! one separated from the mass and moved 
in a circular motion toward the East and passed out of sight; 
and tow r ard it followed for a long distance a shaft of light that 
illumined it, strengthened it on its way. Another moved outward, 
this time toward the South. It, too, carried with it the projecting 
light from the mass, as though it required a stream of power 
to mark its path of motion. Another moved ! Many were 
now moving in different directions, each followed by a scintillat- 
ing, transparent but luminous, beam. 

One was approaching him! As it came nearer to him, it 
grew larger, more brilliant and more intimate in some peculiar 
sense. Its light cast a shade of violet white upon his body 
and seemed to blind his eyes. It came closer and closer; it 
was just above him now. His body tingled, but the active 
pulsations of the heart seemed to stop. A peculiar etherialness 
pervaded his body and it became lighter in weight. Finally 
his whole consciousness was outside of his body, vibrating with 
an attunement most difficult to interpret. 

The great mass of light before him elongated until it was a 
large oval-shaped mass. It fairly trembled with vitality of some 
kind and radiated toward the consciousness of Rollins a peaceful, 
soothing, familiar warmth. 

Then from its very substance a voice spoke. To Rollins 
the words were those of a gentle masculine nature, but he 
realized at once that he was not hearing the voice through the 



20 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

ordinary channel of the ears of his body. In fact, he felt that 
he had no body. What there was of him, the him that he 
knew as self, was in front of him, was a part of the great light 
now — was even the Great Light itself! It was his own soul- 
voice to which he was listening. It was his soul talking to 
him. This — this was his soul, his soul in space. It w r as 

the yesterday of . 

"In thy Light shall we see Light! In the beginning God 
said, Let there be Light. The Light is the Life of men. I am 
the Light of Him who sent me; of the greater Light am I a 
part. Within me there shineth the Light of divinity. The 
Soul of man is the Light. Ye are all Children of the Light. 
Thy Kingdom is the Kingdom of Light. Into darkness comes 
the Light but the darkness comprehends it not. When the Light 
goeth it returneth unto "Light and leaveth darkness unto itself. 
Light is Life, Truth, Freedom. Darkness is Death, Sin, Bondage. 

"This is my world, the limitless world of God. Of God's 
Light am I. Beyond are my kin, all Children of the Light, 
all of the Fatherhood of God, the Motherhood of Love. In 
the beginning God said : Let there be Light and there was 
Light, and the Light was divided into mansions of the Heavens, 
and there were twelve into which the Children of Light were 
received that they might be prepared to serve in their time 
as souls for the races of man on earth. And one by one, each 
was ordained by the Mind of God to go forth and let the 
Light shine on earth through the body God made of the dust 
of the earth. And when the hour came and it was good that 
a soul should bring the Light to earth, God breathed into the 
nostrils of man and each man became a living soul on earth. 
And there was a time and a place for each Light to shine, 
and a day and an hour for each Light to dispel the darkness 
and give Life, radiant and abundant. The law is immutable, 
the ordination infallible in its manifestation. 

"And when the Light could no longer shine through the 
sinful bodies the Light was absorbed into the halo of the Heavens 
and there communed with its kin in the mansions prepared for 
them. For man on earth is ever sinful, decreeing unto himself 
the power of free-doing in violation of the voice within which 
speaks in Truth; for it is of the Light which is Truth. And 
man destroys the body that God has made and weakens its 
structure and defiles the dust of which it is made and it can 
no longer contain the spirit w 7 hich animates it. And it suc- 
cumbs, it falls like the walls of a Temple rotted with the 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 27 

worms of filth and decay from neglect. And it crumbles into 
dust again. For the Light leaveth and darkness reigns within. 

Light is Life and — darkness is Death. 

"The Light that returneth seeth all that is and that will be. 
Of the Mind of God, its Father, it is attuned with all minds. 
It heareth the secret prayers and cries of the Lights of men, 
it knoweth the hopes and desires of the souls of earth, it seeth 
the despairs and the dangers, the temptations and the pitfalls 
of those whose Lights are denied the power to speak, the right 
to guide. Unto the Lights in the mansions beyond is given 
the power to help, the freedom to act, the inspiration to direct. 
They cast the beams of their Lights into the shadows of the 
hearts of man and speak with him and strengthen the Light 
that is held powerless within. This is their work, the work 
of the Children of Light waiting the hour to come into man 
with the breath of Life. 

''And when the hour comes that the Light within the mother 
on earth shines forth and an infant body is prepared for the 
coming of a Soul, the decrees of God send forth that Light 
which is ready for the time and the place, the work and the 
service that shall be the mission of the Light of some mansion. 
And into the body of the babe goes forth that Light to be a 
Light among men. It takes with it unto the brain of the babe 
the personality and the mind, the soul and the memory of its 
former periods of life on earth; and there shines forth through 
the body of the child and the man the Light that is within. 
But man hearkens unto the words of the unwise, the thoughts 
of the temptors, the schemes of the men whose hearts are steeled 
against the radiations of their Lights within, in preference for 
the mortal earthly realities of their own physical senses; and 
some men are therefore lost. But to him who hearkens unto 
the voice of the Light within and finds pleasure in communion 
with the Soul within, there, and unto him, comes God and 
Truth and Life. 

"But I must hasten on. I have come unto thee to speak 
as we would speak unto all men who seek Light, that the mind and 
the brain may be illumined. My time has come to leave the 
Kingdom of Light and stand near the little woman who, within 
a few hours, shall walk through the valley of travail praying 
unselfishly for the Light to come to the infant body she has 
nourished unto creation. It is so decreed that that infant body 
shall be mine, for it will come into places and meet with those 
who will need my Light; and it will pass from association to 



28 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

association, cky to city, peoples to peoples, wherein and whereby 
shall be many experiences needful to my evolving personality, 
and needing the knowledge that I have attained in the past. 
In the home of that child will I wait. I will give ease to the 
new mother consistent with the laws in operation. I will stand 
guard over the threshold of the Channel to Life and be prepared. 
And, when I enter with the Breath of Life I will look out of 
the windows of the Soul, the pure eyes of the babe, and I 
will see — your mother, your father, your home! Come, con- 
sciousness and understanding, you must accompany me and pass 
with me into the being now ready for Life's supreme miracle! 
Through space we shall pass, followed by the loving beams 
of radiating Light which unite us with the Greater Light, 
and tomorrow will be thy birthday on earth." 

Slowly the Light passed on into the night's darkness and 
with it passed from the aura of Rollins that sublime conscious- 
ness, that strange ethereal self, that was outside of his body, 
yet belonged to him. And he fell into oblivion, and slept. 
Awakened by the usual call of his mother, he was startled into 
consciousness of self and self's environment. The morning sun- 
light cast its warm yellow beams across the floor and bespoke of 
life and the glory of living. Downstairs a door closed. There 
was the sound of wagon-wheels on the gravel of the path around 
the house. The world was astir! It was today again and the 
yesterday had passed. The yesterday of a yesterlife — the day 
before his birth, when his own Soul was preparing to pass through 
the experience he had seen earlier last evening. 

Once more he had turned backward a page in the diary of 
Life's cycle to a yesterday beyond the veil. 



¥f 



CHAPTER IV 



In the Shadows of the Past 

The clay being a holiday which even the tireless business 
man must recognize and keep, Rollins decided to spend this 
New Year's day at home. He had partially planned to slightly 
deviate from his rule of many years and have dinner at some 
fashionable down-town restaurant, where he and his mother 
might enjoy the music and the change of environment more than 
the food. But, learning that his mother was fully prepared to 
serve lunch at home, and with the experiences of the night 
weighing heavily upon his mind, Rollins was quick to take 
advantage of any logical excuse for not dining away from home 
at this hour of the day, postponing the restaurant dinner to 
the customary evening hour for holiday dining. 

With a light breakfast served in his study, he begged to 
be excused until afternoon that he might complete his analysis 
of the diary. He had fallen asleep the night before without 
finishing w T hat he had started. This was the excuse he gave to 
his mother — the only person to whom he ever gave any explana- 
tion and perhaps the only one to ever ask why he did some 
of the things that appeared so erratic. But mother seemed 
to understand, and so mother had some special privileges. 

As soon as he could hurriedly digest the important news 
in the morning Times — a practice that nothing could break — and 
as hurriedly sort a few letters that had come by the only 
delivery of the day, he pulled down the shades and closed the 
inner shutters of the two windows of the room and lighted the gas 
logs again that he might sit once more in the quiet, darkened 
room and be alone with the dreams, the visions, the something 
that now seemed to be a part of his real being. 

If Rollins had been asked just at this time to give as 
keen an analysis of himself and his mental attitude as he gave 
of those he scrutinized before employing them or dealing with 
them in any manner, he would have said that he was a man 
possessed of a hallucination tending to become a fixed idea, and 
would have added that such a man was useless in business and 
a nuisance as a friend. He would have said of his mental 
attitude, generally, that it was being warped by imagination. 



30 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

swayed by passing emotions, fixed by a tentative goal, obsessed 
by a single passion, and made impractical by ideals too vague 
to describe. Secretly, however, he would have reluctantly admitted 
to himself that he was being mentally, and, somehow intvardly, 
revolutionized. His processes of thinking were being changed 
by newer premises of reasoning. He was unlearning the old 
lessons and learning new ones. He was discarding old faiths and 
beliefs and slowly, analytically, absorbing from some sort of 
secondary personality new and more worthy, noble and spiritual 
beliefs. By another, his change in thinking and believing would 
be called development of religious mind. But, with Rollins, 
religion would have to come from within, for he was not in 
sympathy with churches and religious ceremonies; and he would 
hardly believe that a religious change could come to any man 
who did not come under the hypnotic spell of master sermon- 
preachers. Naturally, Rollins would hesitate long before admitting 
that through his recent experiences God had spoken to him and 
he was, in fact, developing that religious mind and attttude 
which constitutes the real conversion from sinful indifference 
to sacred appreciation. 

Relaxing easily in the big chair, turned purposefully so that 
he could conveniently gaze into the flames of the logs again, he 
fell into that same mind of speculation as controlled him the 
evening before. He had not taken the 1916 diary from his 
desk, for despite the statement to his mother, it was not his 
intention to continue its study until later in the day. He wanted 
to be free, mentally, and not distracted by even the holding of 
a paper or pencil in his hand. He seemed to feel that the 
fireplace would again serve him with another manifestation of 
some weird process of the imagination, or possibly, memory. 

Could these things be the result of the imagination? If so, 
he, his outer objective self, the brain's creative faculties and 
reasoning abilities, had created, manufactured all he had seen 
and realized. Some men are born with an unusual ability to 
create in this manner. The faculty of imagination — granting 
that it is a distinct process or faculty separated from the ordi- 
nary process of inductive, deductive and syllogistical reasoning — 
simply requires a premise of probability upon which the wildest 
thoughts of possibilities and impossibilities are placed in some 
schematic manner suiting the fancy of the dreamer. 

Usually, accompanying the foundation stone or premise of 
such a structure, the builder has in mind the last stone, perhaps 
the kev-stone, that is to be conspicuous in the completed creation. 



CHAPTER VI 



Resurrection 

As rime, place and circumstances dawned upon Rollins 
consciousness he found himself staring at the old painting, the 
mysterious landscape with the incomplete name of Raymond. 
It seemed older now, and it breathed an atmosphere of some 
incident of life. Did his memory recall the scene? He was 
not sure. And, as he studied the details of the picture, each 
growing more vibrant with life until it was as though he were 
gazing through a window out upon some foreign valley with its 
purple-tinted hills, his eyes wandered to the corner where the 
hirge R of Raymond was plainly visible, even at the distance 
he was from it and in the soft light of his lamp. Then he 
was startled. He had seen that R, with its peculiar, bold forma- 
tion, before. Truly; and he had seen similar pictures. The 
old room ! The finished and unfinished paintings on the walls 
and standing about. Some were signed — and the name on 
them was RAYMOND. There was no other name after it, 
but there had been a mark. Raymond and a symbol. The 
symbol was faint on the painting now upon his wall, but its 
faintness had led him, and others, to believe that it was the 
beginning of another name and they had sought in vain for 
that other name. 

Jumping from the chair like one suddenly possessed of a 
key to a great secret, he removed the painting from the wall, 
and with the aid of a magnifying glass, one that had been 
so used many times, he studied the signature again. There 
was just a little space after the d of Raymond and then there 
was a mark, or possiblv two marks, that suggested the letter V, 
the beginning of the letter W, or possibly the upper part of 
the letter Y, or, perhaps, the last part of the letter N or the 
center of the letter M. Having always believed that these 
indistinct marks were the beginning of a second name, he traced 
out certain other faint brush strokes as being part of the faded 
name. But now he saw that this was the work of the imagina- 
tion, for the brush strokes just as easily formed a part of the 
shrubbery in the foreground as imagination made them a part of the 
name. No, there was nothing truly definite except the first 



5<3 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

name and the two additional marks which now suggested a 
symbol. 

Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the paintings he had seen 
on the wall of the room behind the old man that had just 
passed to the beyond in his last strange scene. Distinctly he 
saw the name of Ra3 T mond on a number of them, and just as 
distinctly a mark of some kind following the name, but the 
nature of the mark he could not recall, could not clearly visualize. 
Why had he not paid more attention to these pictures? And, 
how came those pictures there? Was it an artist's studio he 
had seen? And was the old man an artist? Was he, this 
old man, Raymond? Was he? Then . 

One can easily appreciate the nervous tension, the holding 
of the breath, the rapid heart beat, the joy that overcame his 
emotions as he realized the fact that he, Rollins, in one incarna- 
tion of his Soul, had been Raymond the artist, whose one 
great painting now hung upon the wall, whose identity he and 
others had sought in vain. That was why Rollins had such 
a strange liking for nature's scenery, while out-door life otherwise 
did not appeal to him. That w T as why he loved landscape 
paintings. He was carrying over, from a past life, from the 
yesterdays of old, the likes and desires, the ideals and the 
standards of previous experiences. 

Here was a subject for deep study. Could there be such a 
thing as heredity of mind as well as blood? Is the man of today 
the result physically of the blood of his forebears, and, mentally, 
of his own evolution? Is the body, after all, but a material 
cloak made of the blending of substances of many bodies, while 
the mind, the Soul, is of one continuous strain of divine essence? 

Hanging the picture on the wall almost unconsciously, lost 
in the wonder of the abstract problem that now occupied his 
reasoning, he walked to the secluded bookcases and after unlock- 
ing one section, he took from it a book entitled "Heredity and 
Its Laws." Sitting down again he turned page after page 
seeking for some chapter heading, some caption, some phrase 
which might throw light upon this new idea of soul-rebirth. 
But he was disappointed. He was about to look, almost hope- 
lessly, in the Encyclopedia, when the chimes in the hallway 
announced that lunch was ready. 

It was a holiday and courtesy demanded that this day he 
should show consideration to his mother and not deprive her of 
his company all day. Surely after all this his mother and he 
ought to find greater joy in their companionship. So, to the 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 33 

imagination, fancy or hope, or whether I have been informed 
in some strange way, of what occurred when I could not have 
realized it myself. 

Forgetting the request that he wished to be alone, and 
never realizing how peculiar his inquiry might seem to the little 
gray woman, he rushed from his study, and calling to the sewing- 
room at the head of the stairway, said : 

"Mother, mother, oho, mother! Can you come down to 
the study for a little while, now? There is something I would 
like to talk about." 

There was a tenseness in his voice, an excited vibration, 
that plainly told of a new-found interest, an important subject of 
immediate attention. His mother knew w T ell that tenseness and 
she knew it would brook no delay, and so she came at once. He 
met her at the door, and fondly, more kindly it seemed than 
ever, put his strong arm around her waist and together they 
passed into the study. He placed her in the chair he had just 
occupied so that she might look right into the dancing flames 
of the gas logs, while he squatted down easily, like a big boy, 
on the stool in front of her. 

"Mother," he began slowly, "I want to ask a few, eh, 
rather personal questions. You see, that is you know, it is — it is 
my birthday today. Yes, it is my forty-second birthday. I 
was born January 1st, 1875. That's right, isn't it?" 

"Why yes, William," she replied, glancing at his big, ques- 
tioning eyes with a peculiar query forming in her own mind. 
"But why talk of it now? Why not forget — that is, forget 
how old you are, and think only of the many, many more years 
that are to come. Why — I believe I have forgotten to con- 
gratulate you today ! You were so anxious to be alone this 
morning. I hardly had an opportunity to say even good morning. 
My boy has grown so big these last twenty or thirty years I 
realize more and more what a great man has come from the 

little man that God once gave me when . But come, 

William, let us talk about the future. Are you ever going to 
take a nice long vacation? Would it not be wonderful at this 
time of the year to spend a few weeks at Palm Beach? We, 
that is, you. certainly need a little change and rest, and some- 
times, sometimes I feel so tired, too. You know I am getting 

old, William, ven old and But there, 1 did not want to 

ask favors of you on your birthday. It is you who should 
ask them today." 

"That's just it, mother, I am asking a favor now. I want 



34 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

just a little talk with you about my birthday — my first birthday. 
You say I should not talk about how old I am, and you, with 
all the pretty color of a young girl in your cheeks, with the 
twinkle in your eyes of a twenty-year-old sweetheart — you talk 
of being old. But, to come back to my question — tell me, mother, 
at what hour was I born if you can remember? — No, I did 
not mean that — of course you can remember, that is not so 
long ago — and who was there? Where was the room? Or 
rather, in which room of the house was I born? You know 
what I mean, tell me all about that day, from the hour of 
sunrise to the hour of — the hour ivhcn father gave me my name!" 

"Your father!" The little woman gave a startled gasp. 
For a second she looked sharply into the eyes of the big boy — ■ 
and then into the flames of the fire. A sigh escaped her lips, 
her hands twitched and slowly she let her right hand slip into 
the big firm left hand of the man-boy she idolized. Tears came 
into her eyes and she did not try to stay them. 

Rollins looked for a moment and then dropped his eyes 
to the floor. Motherhood, suffering, the valley of death — and 
now recollection! That was all that passed through his mind, 
and he was deeply, sympathetically affected. What cruelty to 
have the sweet little woman live through it again! 

After a pause of several minutes, wherein the inner sobs 
of a bleeding heart gave pulsations even to the vibrations of 
the room — a pause in which mother and son were again wrapped 
in the soul-auras of each other through divine attunement, he 
spoke. 

"Pardon me, mother, I did not mean to bring back to your 
mind the sorrows and pains of that day. I know what it 
means — that is, I believe I understand what a supreme sacri- 
fice of life's forces you must have made. Come, tell me only 
of the happiness of that day!" 

"My boy, my boy," sobbed the little woman, now turning 
in her chair so that she could look down on the head and 
shoulders of the man who slowly buried his head in her lap, 
and finding work for her nervous fingers in the smoothing of 
his hair. "There was no sorrow that day, all was joy, all 
was happiness. The next day brought its sadness — and widow- 
hood, for I did not know of his — his going — until the next 
Jay — I was too weak to be told at once. But your birthday 
was the most wonderful day to me, and my tears, boy-man of 
mine, are tears of joy — just the duplicate of the tears that I 
shed so silently and quietly as I fell asleep when I heard your 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 35 

first cries and knew that you lived. I was so fearful that 
you might not be — that you might not live — and that you might 
not be a big, strong boy to become a big, big man, like — your 
father. But your cries, your cries of life, and the words of 
the nurse — 'it is a boy' — these gave me unbounded joy. My 
prayers were answered and oh ! how I prayed that day, from 
sunrise to the hour of peace in the arms of sleep — that my 
baby might live, that the Soul of God might be in his little body. 

"There is not much to tell of the events of that day, but 
there is so much to tell in one other regard, that I feel I must 
tell you now. Long have I tried to say nothing; long have I 
wanted to keep this little day holy to myself — the dav of your 
birth. But you would know some day — some day when I close 
my eyes in sleep eternal, and it may be better to speak now\ 
There — keep your head in my lap, my man, and — let me look 
off into space as I speak. I cannot now look into your eyes 
and tell you — with shame — the story I must tell ; but you 
shall know, and God help me to tell you in some way, in some 
words, that will beg, as / cannot beg, for your forgiveness. 

"Your father and I knew each other as playmates at school. 
We lived in the little town of Alberta, Minnesota, not far from 
Morris, which was the county seat of Stevens County. Our 
parents were typical farmers of that day, fair-to-do, and each 
of us was the only child. We attended school only three days 
each week, sharing our teacher with the school at Donnelly, 
many miles north, the other three days. This gave us much 
opportunity to romp the fields, enter into the games and pastimes 
of the other children and — become sweethearts. When I became 
sixteen I went to the town of Morris, which always seemed 
like going to a big city, and there I attended what would be 
called a high school today. But your father, a robust boy of 
eighteen, went to Benson, in Swift County, adjoining, to study 
law with an uncle who had a large practice there, it also being 
a county seat. Letters passed between us that grew more fervent, 
perhaps because of the separation, and it was not long before 
I was considered as engaged to the young law student. His 
future seemed bright, as it was considered in those days when 
good lawyers with connections with established practices were 
tew, and I remember that our school-day friends spoke of the 
happy lot 1 was to have. It was not just a school-boy and 
school-girl love affair, for, you sec, we had grown up together 
and we seemed to be so much a part of each other. 

"Then his father died. The bov had to return to the farm 



36 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 



and look after his mother and the big lands left uncared for. 
Once again, we were together for several weeks, and his possible 
return to the town of Benson made me unhappy. I had left 
Morris, having completed a two years' course of study, and 
he had only reached the point where he could go into court 
and take care of some minor cases. I was then eighteen and he 
was twenty. We made our plans — that some day we would be 
married and live in the house his father had left to him, and 
his dear, sweet mother should live with us. My father had 
always wanted to go to Duluth and there associate with a 
brother who was in the produce business — 'food stocks' it was 
called then — and I knew that it was just little me that kept 
him from selling the farm and going on East with mother. And 
so, when he learned that there was a possibility of my marriage 
with the son of his old neighbor and that we would live in 
that house, that I would be well cared for, even if the boy never 
' 'mounted to much as a lawyer' he began his preparations for 
selling and moving. 

"I remember how strange I felt when men came to estimate 
the value of the old farm and homestead, and then when buyers 
came, one by one making their offers. Father would explain 
to them — sometimes in my hearing — how the 'little gal' was going 
to be married soon and would live over 'yonder' in the home of old 
Walt Rollins. It seemed day by day that, as things were packed 
up and certain things were set aside for me, I was being forced 
out of my home and literally given away to the boy who had 
not even then asked me to marry him. That we would marry, 
some day, seemed so well understood between us, we never made 
any reference to it. But this indefinite understanding on our 
parts was translated into a very definite matter by our parents 
and friends. 

"My boy, my sweetheart, seemed to realize that it was near 
time to take the matter into his own hands, and I recall the 
day that the big mahogany bed-set was moved from mother's 
room over to the Rollins' home to be our set; I was embarrassed 
to find how intimately we were being placed in the arrangement 
of the new room and with never a word from my boy as to 
when we were to be married. 

"Finally my father and mother moved away — went on their 
long planned journey— and bid me good-by. I was well estab- 
lished in the Rollins home, had the big room with the mahogany 
bed-set all to myself, and dear old Mrs. Rollins acting as 
mother to me. 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 37 

"My sweetheart was still anxious to return to his study of 
law, and when he learned that his cousin Harold, .who lived 
in the East somewhere, was to come West, he wrote for him 
to visit our home. Harold, much to my disappointment, proved 
to be a fine, manly fellow of twenty-two, far from the weak, 
characterless type we had been led to believe lived in the big 
Eastern cities. He was well educated, polished, athletic in action, 
religiously inclined, and always gentlemanly. I did not know 
it then — for he would have never told — but he took a fancy to 
me and it was that which made him prolong his visit and 
never reach farther West as he had planned. 

"As soon as Harold had been with us several weeks and 
indicated that for some reason he thought he would stay perhaps 
a 5 7 ear, my sweetheart decided that, since Harold could look after 
the farm, he might well return to Benson and continue his 
studies at law. I protested in a way, for many weeks before 
he left, but he had been going ahead with some studies at 
home, preparing for several months to take up a definite work 
when he reached there. All this time he said nothing more 
about our marriage and you know, in those days, we were taught 
that it was not proper for a girl to appear even anxious to 
marry. Therefore, the anxiety that came to me at times never 
expressed itself. 

''We grew more and more intimate, my sweetheart boy and 
I, as the days passed. Harold, the cousin, could not help seeing 
that we were deeply in love. To me, my boy personified all 
that love meant to a woman. He w T as an idol, a hero, a master, in 
my heart and mind. And then came the last week. Often we 
sat in the twilight, his arms about me, my head resting against 
his shoulder. He would tell me of his love and how happy 
we would be in the future. Oh ! it was the old sweet story 
over and over that every girl loves to hear. It was the first 
week in May, the spring-time sun, the blossoming of the flowers, 
the green trees and lawns so fresh with new life, the singing 
of the birds, the exotic perfume, the setting sun, then the moon — 
all this seemed to add to the joy, and the alluring power that 
my boy sweetheart held over me. 

"And — just the night before he left — thrilled with the warmth 
of his kisses, saddened by the sorrow of the morrow's separation, 
overpowered by the protestations of his love and the beauty of 
the tie that binds, we cast our souls into the flames of sin — and 
I was his bride. It was not the way I understood, but it made 
him mine, and for one brief hour he was mine — all mine, united 



3§ 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 



to me by a marriage of all the passions and emotions, all the 
forces of the universe. I had looked forward to another kind 
of marriage, but this — this must suffice for the present. He would 
return soon, and then — then the other marriage. We agreed 
to keep our secret. He would return in the summer vacation 
days when even the country courts were closed for a while — 
then the day of our marriage. Oh ! how well I remember those 
plans, for I lived over them hour after hour during his absence. 

"One week later he wrote me that an uncle in Duluth 
wanted him to go there, as there was an excellent opportunity 
for his law practice after he should have completed his studies; 
and he could just as easily complete them there, easier in fact 
than he could in Benson. I remember feeling that that fact 
alone atoned for the greater separation that would come between 
us — he would more quickly and with greater efficiency complete 
his studies there. 

"A few days later there came another letter, hurriedly written, 
saying he was leaving Benson that very hour. He would write 
to me from Duluth. I should not forget him, and he w r ould 
not forget me for a single moment; and some day soon he would 
come back. Come back to old Alberta, the town of his boyhood, 
the home of his bride. And — that was the last that was ever 
heard of him. Weeks passed and I wrote to him in care of 
his uncle. His uncle wrote to me that they were still waiting 
his coming. Harold went to Benson and found that he had 
gone the day he wrote his last letter to me. There was no 
trace of him. Telephones and telegraphs were not available in 
those days as they are now, yet even such things might not 
have located him. Remember this was in 1874. Many things 
could have happened to him, the most logical being the one 
we all agreed upon. He had probably changed cars at some 
station and listening to the pleadings or the enticing expectations 
of those moving westward where fortunes were to be made, 
joined with them. Harold agreed in this, for it was the allure- 
ment of the Golden West, the promise of fortune and the hope 
of great, quick wealth, that had started him wetsward. 

"The day came when I discovered that not long could I 
keep from some the knowledge that something more than wifehood 
was to be my lot. I had never thought of this — sublime inno- 
cence and ignorance was a girl's charm in those days, and likewise 
her ruin in many cases. Old Mrs. Rollins, heartbroken, but 
brave and svmpathetic, answered my many qustions and revealed 
the law to me. Never did girl need — and have — so wonderful 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 39 

a friend as that dear, sweet mother. My own parents were 
never told ; and only this kind mother and myself knew, at first. 
Then Harold knew! I was startled when 1 discovered that 
he knew. I realized at once that his many kind attentions, his 
extreme consideration, had been for the purpose of letting me 
know, intuitively, that he knew. And, as the days and weeks 
passed, and the warm months of July and August passed, he 
and I spent many hours together walking and talking and reading 
the most sublime and inspiring literature from the pen of man 
and the mind of God. I knew he loved me — intuition had 
told me that when it would not tell me what else he knew. 
And, knowing, he loved me; knowing my sin, my error, my 
failing, he loved and respected me. I remember that one Sunday, 
when modesty kept me from going to church with him as I 
had been doing, he read to me from the Bible, and he read so 
slowly, so impressively, the verses: 'Learn to do well, seek judgment, 
relieve the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow. 
Come now, let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your 
sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow T ; though they 
be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.' 

"As Fall came, and then Winter, Harold, pleaded with me to 
marry him. He knew I loved the one who was gone, still 
idolized him and forgave him for the error of his life; for I 
wanted to believe that he would have come back to me had 
not something terrible happened to prevent. But, my child must 
have a name! Oh, how those words rang in my ears! How 
often, as a child, I had heard the stinging rebuke of men and 
women, commenting on the life of some unfortunate child — 'it 
has no name; it was born in shame and sin!' I wanted my 
child to be great and good and wonderful, like his father. And 
so it came about that I married Harold. 

"We were married just before Christmas and only the pastor 
of the little church knew our secret and he prayed with us and 
spoke of the noble love Harold had. As the honor of his act, 
the sacrifice he was making, dawned on me after that day, I 
came to love him for the soul that shone through his body. 
It was like a light that shines in the valley of shadows. 

"At last came the day — really unexpected — when the greatest 
lesson of life was to be learned. January ist, 1875! Early in 
the morning I called to dear old Airs. Rollins for advice. She 
called Harold and he drove through the cold of the bitter 
morning to get the doctor and a nurse. They returned at nearly 
six. It was still dark and I was — well, I have forgotten the 



4-0 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

suffering now. I only know that as the hours came — and I 
counted the minutes in suspense — I thought of but one thing: 
will my baby live? I wanted it to be a little man and look 
like his father. I praj^ed for this, I cried and sobbed, in fear that 
it might not be so. Some are born dead. I had been warned 
not to worry about the absent one, lest it affect the soul of the 
unborn child ; but the fear came now, in the hours, the last 
hours, of waiting. 

"As the sun rose in the sky and penetrated through the 
fogs and the winter clouds, I felt that the last hours of my 
life had come. I became exhausted and depressed. I remember 
lying upon the bed in the corner of the room and looking at the 
empty cradle near by and wondering if it would ever be other- 
wise. I closed my eyes and prayed, prayed as Harold had taught 
me to pray. And as I prayed there seemed to be the voice 
of an angel whispering comfort and encouragement to me. I 
keenly felt the very Soul of God in my presence and knew 
then that God was standing guardian over the birth of my 
little baby. At each cry to heaven for — I knew not what — I 
felt the magnetic, soothing, inspiring presence of something around 
me that appeared several times to be bathed in radiant white 
light. It was as though the Light of Heaven opened at times 
and shone upon me to strengthen me, to tell me that all would 
be well, that my baby would be born alive — that life was there, 
waiting, waiting, waiting with me." 

Rollins felt his mother sobbing. Her hands trembled now 
on his head, her whole body vibrating with the emotion that was 
overwhelming her. The last words she spoke were said slowly 
and softly, tears and sobs breaking the even rhythm of her 
voice. Yet, he would not look up into her eyes — the time had 
not yet come for that. There was a minute coming, he felt 
sure, when she would need his help — need what, even now, he 
was ready to give. 

"And then Harold came to me. He had attended to some 
things at the barn and in the kitchen. He was as anxious over 
my safety and my desires as though it — was — the — coming — of — his 
child. With a tenderness that only a woman can appreciate at 
such times, and with a love that was holy and good, abundant 
and so self-sacrificing, he did all he could. He kissed me, 
smoothed my disarranged hair, held my hand and told me in 
every way possible that he was with me in spirit and soul as 
well as body. 

"I do not remember much more. Nervously I awaited the 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 41 

words of the nurse. 'It is a boy — a fine boy.' Mrs. Rollins, 
too, was relieved at these words, for she stood by and was so 
sympathetic. Then 1 heard Harold talking to the baby in the 
cradle. They say he kissed the little hands, and then said — 
oh ! I recall easily the words — 'Baby man, we will bless you as 
God has done, and your name will be, William Howard Rollins.' 
That was your father's name, my boy ; and Harold meant that 
we, he and I, would always bless you and reverence you, even 
though the world might some day learn your mother's shame 
and dishonor you. And, in giving you your father's name, Harold 
meant to make me happy — to give back to me again my William — 
my lost William. And — I have had you, boy-man, ever since, 
for God was good to me and gave me the soul of my love. 
Can you forgive me, my boy? Can you ever, ever look at me 
again and say that you understand, you know, you forgive, and 
that you love your dear old mother?" 

Slowly Rollins rose to his feet. His mother w r as slipping 
toward the floor in exhaustion. Quickly he took her into his 
arms and kissed the tear-stained cheeks, then the sobbing lips. 

"Mother — I — why I — I am not the one to forgive or refuse 
to forgive. God made mothers like you, God gave you the 
Soul you have, and God gave me the Soul I have, and God united 
us that day in a w T ay that not even you understand. Your love 
was good, your faith, your trust — all that w r as as pure as snow. 
There are no crimson spots to wipe away — nothing to forgive. 
God bless you, and let us forget that any man ever thought your 
love a sin or your act a shame. You have proven both to 
have been God's own decree. But, tell me, mother, where 
did Harold go?" 

The mother sat dow T n again, reassured, comforted, but still 
unable to look at her boy, her man, in the eyes. "That day 
he was hurt and then died, through a runaway of the horses 
that had earlier taken him to get the physician. As I said, I 
never knew until the next day w 7 hat had happened on the yesterday. 
Sometimes the delaying of sad news of a yesterday until tomorrow 7 
is a blessing. It was so in my case ; I hope it will be so in 
this case." 

"And, mother, just one more point to complete the picture 
of that memorable day. Was I covered in that cradle with a 
hand-crocheted blanket that you had made?" 

Startled, the little trembling woman arose. Glancing at 
him inquiringly, she said: 

"William, have you found even the one little secret that 



42 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

1 wanted to keep? Oh, 1 suppose it was futile, but I have 
tried all these years to keep that away — and preserve it. Yet, 
somehow, you must have found it and have discovered it. Yes, 
during those days of waiting I had made a little blanket, know- 
ing that winter was coming and the little baby would need 
every bit of warmth possible in the old house. And with each 
stitch I worked into that blanket thoughts of love for my missing 
William. Harold knew this too, and never said anything but 
tender references to how my little baby would be wrapped in 
thoughts of purest love. I have kept that blanket all these 
years, have often kissed it and hugged it w T hile the tears came 
to my eyes. It is all — all that I have saved from those days — 
those days — of saddest love. And now you know all, William. 
Take me to my room and let me sleep — the sleep of peace at 
last; for I need no longer hide my secret in my heart — or hide 
the blanket of love from vour eves." 



CHAPTER V 



Transition 

Again Rollins returned to his study. It was near noon. 
In another hour lunch would be served, yet he Was sure that 
he would not eat, could not eat, in the mental attitude he was 
in just now. Seating himself in the easy chair again, he was 
ready to speculate once more on the things that were rapidly 
filling his life with new T interest. 

"So William Rollins was my father," he mused half aloud, 
"and Harold Rollins was his cousin, my stepfather. My mother 
married this Harold Rollins, I w r as born a Rollins — I am a 
Rollins by blood and by birth. The world can say nothing of 
that. It is a perfect title, a perfect chain. It is only the material 
side of the whole affair, after all, and I am more interested in 
the other. Poor little woman, how she did suffer! And she 
does not know the facts as I know them. Facts? Yes, the 
actual facts, for has not the story of my mother verified the 
story, the vision, X heard and saw — there — last night? Imagina- 
tion? A fabric of the mind? Then, I, the self within me, the 
Soul of that little woman, the experiences of her life, the suffer- 
ing she bore — the tears she shed — all imagination then, too? 
Impossible!" 

And Rollins was right. The mother's story, even in the 
minute details that might easily have been forgotten or even 
misunderstood by the man. were identical. No imagining of the 
mind could create so correct a reflection of the actual events of 
the past, and no child's memory could remember the events 
of its early life, or even the stories that it might have heard. 
Yet, w T as that impossible? Was the child-memory locked against 
the storing and preserving of tales it might acquire in babyhood, 
and release again as a fantasm, in adulthood? 

How could he be sure that at no time in his childhood — 
in years when he w r as a boy of ten or even fifteen — he had not 
overheard his mother telling someone about the events of that 
day? While forgotten now so far as objective recollection was 
concerned, still the story may have recorded itself for preservation. 
It may have been entered on — why the pages of the Diarv of 
the Past! THE DIARY! He had forgotten about it. Since 



44 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

last evening, he had turned backward to two adjoining days of 
the past in the diary of — memory perhaps? That was a simple 
answer. 

He remembered reading somewhere — or perhaps he had been 
told by some one — that when a person is in the deeper stages 
of hypnosis, or a similar subjective condition, susceptible to sug- 
gestion — one can be made easily to remember — or recall from 
the archives of the memory — the events and incidents of certain 
days of the past. Such experiments often and scientifically made, 
proved the existence of a perfect storehouse of memories, impres- 
sions. Only the necessary condition, the appropriate causation, the 
unhampered opportunity, were needed to permit this storehouse, 
this perfect and indelible record of ail realizations, to marshal 
themselves out to the borderline of consciousness and be realized 
again. Concentration of all the active faculties, incentive, sug- 
gestion, relaxation, hypersensitiveness to impressions — these condi- 
tions were necessary and — they were controlling Rollins' mind and 
physical condition at the time he had had his experiences. Scien- 
tifically, his experiences were psychological ones, hallucinations, 
illusions, fantasms of the memory, almost anything. But to 
Rollins, they were realities that required no actualities to make 
them of value to him. No, the scientific analysis and explanations 
of them would not suffice. There was something more than 
mere mentalism in all this. 

It has been said that there is a key to the past, a link that 
unites the present with the past, and that with this key one 
might easily lift the veil to enter the forbidden chamber and 
read the records there. Delving, then, into the past would be 
like delving into the recesses of the memory for a forgotten fact; 
all one needs is the associated fact, as a key, and with this the 
forgotten fact is brought to light. If all that came to Rollins 
in the past twenty-four hours came as an insight into the past, 
what was the link? What was the key? He asked the ques- 
tions over and over, and then, mentally analyzed how T it all 
began. At once he thought of the diary, turning the pages of 
yesterdays in the yesteryears of long ago. The Diary! Again 
its very sound, its entity as a thing, impressed him. It seemed 
like a thing alive! And did not Casaubon, the great French 
theologian of the 16th century, make his diary, the famed 
Ephemerides, a thing that lived for centuries? 

To the diary must Rollins return. He felt it — it was 
impelling. Once in his hand, it seemed to vibrate life, animation, 
exhilaration, creative powers. Truly it was attuned with the 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 45 

unknown, yet it was a mere book; and on not one page was there 
a word which could be interpreted as referring, in the remotest 
sense, to what had been aroused in the atmosphere of that room. 

With the closed book in his hand, merely to satisfy the 
idea that there w T as some key required, he leaned back again into 
relaxation in the chair of contemplation, and waited. But one 
thought occupied his mind. "I will turn back the pages of 
the diary of the past, to the yesterday of the yesterlife!" He 
re-expressed the thought audibly — as a command unto himself. 

How many minutes passed while Rollins sat there with 
his eyes closed is not known, but he was drawn from the silence 
of his concentration by hearing a peculiar humming sound through- 
out the room. Opening his eyes he saw nothing at first, but 
slowly there formed a great violet haze in the corner of his 
room where but a single chair stood in darkness. Gradually 
the haze formed itself into a mass near the floor, and then elongated 
into a form that eventually — perhaps after five minutes of time — 
formed itself into a couch or couch-bed. It was covered with 
blankets and sheets and there was an old man lying under the 
covers with just the head and one arm showing. 

More of the picture — for picture it seemed — began to form 
now, as Rollins stared in deep concentration, even breathing slowly 
lest the spell be broken. At the side of the couch-bed sat 
another old man. His hand was holding the hand of the other — 
the man who was lying there — ill. It was another scene of 
sorrow. The very atmosphere of the picture breathed again 
pain and sadness. The arm of the sick man was pale and thin. 
It hung almost lifeless. The man who sat at the side of the 
bed w^as intent in his study of the older man's face. A crucial 
moment seemed to be at hand. 

The violet aura or haze surrounded the whole picture, and 
divided the picture from the rest of Rollins' study in which 
it was being enacted. The wall behind the couch seemed to be 
of a different color and nature than that of the study, and 
seemed to be farther away. 

Rollins watched and waited for developments, but again 
he experienced the peculiar sensation of his consciousness leaving 
hi? body and being over there, somewhere in the picture itself. 
Now he was completely there. He could feel the difference of 
the atmosphere; the room he was now in was cold. He seemed 
to be at the side — no, just over and alongside — of the man on 
the couch. He was there unseen. 

With the neAv position of his consciousness there came a 



46 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

clearer consciousness of what was transpiring. The old man 
was ill — was, in fact, dying. It was merely a matter of time, 
perhaps minutes, when he would breathe his last breath. But 
how? Why? Where? These questions must be answered first. 
And as each question came to mind there came the answer, not 
in words, but in that inner understanding that was so strange 
to him — -to his ordinary understanding; but it did not perplex 
him now. 

So far as Rollins could see, there were many odd things 
in the corner of the room in which the couch and the men were 
located. But most prominent were the many paintings framed 
and unframed, and some even unfinished. The room seemed to 
be empty of those things so familiar when a woman shares the 
home. The untidiness, the signs of dust and neglect indicated 
that the impressions that the old man had been ill very long, 
and alone, were correct. The other man was — a physician. He 
was in a hopeless attitude, but had just administered a potion 
which would prolong life. The old man was struggling, inwardly; 
for at times he gasped and after each gasp a little color would 
come to the cheeks. 

Desiring to know more of the story, Rollins, or rather the 
consciousness of Rollins, leaned over the body of the sick man, 
and hovered there a few minutes. The old man gasped again, 
and opening his eyes said falteringly: 

"See — see! There — just above me — my Soul. It is leaving 
me — it wants to go, it is hovering there waiting, waiting, waiting." 
The words died out in weakness. But they were not the words 
of an American, they were not English — they were French. 
But the consciousness of Rollins understood. 

As the import of the man's exclamation dawned upon Rollins 
he was startled. Did it mean that he, Rollins, was witnessing 
his own Soul in transition from another body? What else 
could these words mean? 

The thought seemed to be the result of the fact, for at 
once the consciousness of Rollins — the mind, the intellect — 
answered, "I am that Soul!" 

Then came the sensation of attunement, a peculiar connec- 
tion of some kind, with the man's body. Rollins felt the weak- 
ness the old man was feeling. He felt a dry parched mouth, a 
desire for water, and as he realized this, the old man lifted 
his hand and said: "Water, water, please — some water." The 
physician turned and picked up a wooden cup and lifted the' old 
man partially upright while he put the cup to his lips. Rollins 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 47 

could feel the cooling drink go down his throat. Then, the ease 
of temperature manifested itself and Rollins noticed for the first 
time that he was warm. The old man closed his eyes and sank 
into relaxation and as he did so, the consciousness of Rollins 
seemed to become lighter and to almost float in space above 
the couch. 

Suddenly the cry came again for more water. This time 
the physician put some powder into the water and gave it to 
the man to drink. Immediately Rollins tasted the element in 
the water, but it was cooling and soothing. 

In a moment or two a peculiar sensation came over the 
consciousness of both, the old man and Rollins. The old man 
began to quiver and cried: "No, no more, I want to go on, 
I do not want to stay. Why did you give me that again? 
I was eased, I saw that I was going and was happy." To 
Rollins the effect of the powder was that of making his con- 
sciousness heavy, thickening it, it seemed, and drawing it down, 
and down, and down into the body of the old man. It pulled, 
it strained, it stressed. 

The consciousness did not want to go, the body of the man 
did not want to hold it — but something, fiery, strong, gross, 
unnatural, was pulling the two together. It was uncomfortable. 
The old man wept in pain. The physician held his hand and 
watched. The consciousness of Rollins could stand the situa- 
tion no longer. It would free itself from this bondage. It 
grew stronger, it grew lighter, it rose slightly from its close 
position to the body. Its sense became more keen, it could feel 
its own entity. It seemed to be a living personality now, almost 
independent of the body there — but connected by a mere haze — 
a violet aura. Then it spoke, the voice coming from the very 
density of the consciousness : 

"I will be free! I am the Master of my destiny while 
here, and the decree shall be fulfilled and the hand of man 
shall not alter or modify that which is written in the Great 
Book. It is my time to pass on to the Kingdom of Light and 
be "illumined by the Greater Light. Long has this body served 
me well for the work I came to do — the work decreed for me 
when into it I came. But now that body can no longer stand 
the power of the Light within, it can no longer serve without 
hindrance, work without breaking down, assist with efficiency, 
the mission of my time. Your poisons and your drugs are of the 
stuff the body is made of — the dust of the ground ; and they 
cannot do more than strangle the mind, paralyze the senses and 



4 8 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 



hold fast to that which is better gone. Peace should come to 
the old body there which knows only what I know, which suffers 
only what I suffer, which rejoices when I rejoice. For, it has 
no consciousness of its own. Its mind is my mind, its Light 
is my Light, its Life is my life. It is nothing of itself. It 
wants nothing, can have nothing. Away w T ith it, for I want 
it not, and I AM ALL THERE IS TO MAN, and / have 
life eternal!" 

From the old man there came a gasp — a. sudden jerking of 
the body, a tenseness that made the body rigid, and then a 
slow relaxation which left the body limp. And, as the relaxa- 
tion came, there was a slow exhalation of all the air in the 
cells of the lungs — and the Soul that hovered above, united 
to the body by only the aura, slowly floated off into space and 
illumined the darkened walls as it passed by. Reaching the 
upper part of the room the soul-consciousness spoke gently and 
sweetly: "Peace, peace unto all, for I am risen! From the 
tomb I have come, resurrected. Long did I suffer and try to 
make my escape that I might be free to give greater Light unto 
the world, but man in his ignorance and vanity held me fast, 
crucified upon the Cross of false realities. Man's body is the 
Cross upon which all Souls are crucified because man makes it so. 
On that cross have I been like a rose held fast by the 
entwining stems and the thorns. The tears were the dew drops 
that came from the petals and left the perfume of immortality 
to radiate into the aura of the Soul. But I am free, free 
to return to the Kingdom of Light, where Souls unite in sacred 
communion and abide in the mansions of the Mind of God." 

As the violet haze passed on and faded from view, the 
couch and the man sank into darkness as behind a veil, and 
Rollins, the man, came slowly back to self-consciousness again. 
Rubbing his eyes, tired from the long strain of concentration, 
he straightened his tall body, stretched out his arms horizontally 
at each side to take a deep breath, when again the words rang 
in his ears: "On that cross have I been like a rose." Quickly 
he dropped his arms as he realized that his posture was that 
of a cross— THE CROSS. He dropped back into his chair, 
and for the first time since childhood this great, strong man 
wept. He had witnessed the passing of his Soul' from the body 
in its previous life — the yesterlife of another century. 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 3 1 

And the builder builds to suit the needs lying between the 
foundation and the very pinnacle of the structure. With the 
goal clearly defined in mind, it is possible to select from the 
memory of facts and ideas just such elements of fabrication as 
are needed to reach such a goal. This applies to the average 
imagery of man's mind. 

But such an explanation of the process of imagination, 
so-called, eliminates all appreciation of the following facts: First, 
all the deductive and inductive reasoning of man's brain must 
result from a careful analysis of those experiences which he has 
consciously realized through participation in them, through reading 
of them or through hearing or seeing them. Secondly, facts 
drawn from the memory of man must be facts or ideas which 
eutered the memory during a period of realization of them 
or otherwise. 

How, then, thought Rollins, can all that has occurred since 
last evening be attributed to my imagination? There is, truly 
enough, but one limitation to the activities and products of 
imagination ; all must be centered around and within the limits 
of my knowledge. I cannot imagine a fact that I do not other- 
wise know T or that is not a part of or related to some other 
fact or facts which I know. Nor, in the process of adding to 
my structure of imagination, can I take from the memory such 
elements as are not there. Each point, each element, each 
feature, in even the wildest and most weird fabrication of 
imagination, must be the result of deductive or inductive reason- 
ing, based on a premise within my conscious knowledge. 

Whence came, then, the facts contained in what I have 
seen and experienced within the past twenty-four hours? Whether 
the facts of my experiences last night are actualities of life 
or not, they are, nevertheless, facts in my mind now — and 
where did they come from ? I never knew before, never heard 
or read before, that the soul of the unborn child hovered near 
the expectant mother and passed into the body of the child with 
its first breath. Not only did I never hear, nor read, nor 
understand that before, but it is contrary to what I have hitherto 
believed, contrary to what I should have argued, contrary to 
what I have been taught, and what I know so many believe 
and teach. Twenty-four hours ago, I should have said emphati- 
cally and without tolerance for debate, that the Soul of an 
unborn child enters its body some time prior to its birth — 
perhaps months before. Our civil, criminal and moral laws 
are based upon that belief. Great fortunes have been granted 



32 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

to heirs on the basis of that principle. Learned judges, eminent 
jurists, undoubted authorities have argued in courts, claiming 
that after a certain period of gestation, the unborn child has 
a Soul, and is therefore an entity, a personality, separate and 
distinct from the mother, and could, therefore, be a potential 
heir to a fortune, even before birth. Men have gone to the 
gallows in the past for having destroyed or caused to be destroyed 
the Soul, or rather its functioning, by the destruction of the 
body of an unborn child. Yet, from what I have learned, and 
what I must confess seems to be the most logical and correct 
statement of the matter, the unborn child up to the moment of 
the first breath of life, is living on the vitality, the soul-essence 
of the "borrowed blood" of the mother, as the words of the 
Soul-voice explained to me. The severance of the umbilical 
cord is the establishment of the child's independent existence and 
the taking of the first breath of life is the establishment of the 
independent and separate vitalizing of its blood; and this must 
necessarily precede the severance of the two bodies. It is most 
logical, reasonable, and natural from a scientific point of view. 
It explains the statement made by the Soul-voice and which 
I have often read in the Bible without realizing its import: 
God breathed into man the breath of life and man became a 
living soul. 

But, how T could such a startling, revolutionary, illuminating 
fact come to my brain, my memory or my consciousness through 
imagination? If but one illuminating fact can thus come through 
imagination, then a complete education, a veritable encyclopedia 
of facts, a mine of exact knowledge, might be possessed by any 
one through simply day-dreaming and imagining. 

And, there was the scene of my birth! The little room, 
the suffering woman, the physician, the nurse, the kind and 
gentle husband, the cradle, the voice of my father saying^ "Baby 
man, we will bless you as God has done, and your name will be — 
William Howard Rollins!" I do not recall, in fact, I am sure 
of this, quite positive, that my mother has never told me a 
word about that day, for it is a sad event in her life; for on 
that day she lost the man who loved her, and I lost the only 
person whose absence has been my one great regret. How could 
such facts as constitute the picture of that room and the incidents 
,f that day, come from either imagination or my memory, if 
I had never known tnem ? But — were they facts in actuality? 
Ah! here was a test. Mother — she could verify them! She 
alone could prove, now, whether I have created something from 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 6l 

eye could cast upon the retina for absorption by the nerves for 
translation into consciousness. What difference, then, did it 
make whether he saw objectively, or — bow? 

The- mist became a light purple at its outer edge and a 
neutral gray in the center. The center then darkened until 
various colors spotting the space like first blocking-in of colors 
on a canvas. Gradually they took form and some blended until 
the whole made a picture. As it developed its lite-like atmos- 
pheric qualities, and became alive with feeling, the consciousness 
of Rollins passed from his body like a wraith toward the scene, 
stretching along with it, from his body to the scene itself, a 
misty light which radiated a coolness around him. Then — 
perhaps after a minute or two — Rollins saw, not from where 
his body was, but from the scene. His senses w r ere with his 
consciousness, not w T ith his body. From the scene in which he 
was now a part, he looked back at his body on the chair, and 
that view impressed him as being but a picture w T hereas his 
new environment in the strange scene was real, actual. It was 
tempting to analyze such a condition, yet something urged him 
to think no more of it, to center his thoughts on where he 
was and what he was doing there. 

He looked about him. He w T as in a large room, the room 
that had begun to form as a misty picture and became life-like. 
It was stranger than any room he had ever been in before. 
The ceiling, crossed at various parts with heavy wooden beams, 
was very high above the floor, perhaps sixty feet. The walls 
were of stone — large stones evenly placed but not tightly united 
by cement. The three windows, set deeply in the thick walls, 
were arched at the top and screened with rough wiring, but 
contained bars instead of glass panes. Opposite the three windows 
there was an open fireplace the recess of which was unusually 
deep and wide. In it large logs were burning and before it 
a number of odd irons and racks were set. In the center of 
the room was a carved table, the workmanship suggesting great 
labor and skill, but the wood was unstained" and unvarnished. 
It was fully twenty feet long and four feet wide. Chairs, 
with high backs, carved and finished much like the table, were 
in various parts of the room, and at one end a large combination 
closet and table upon which sat many large pieces of beautiful 
silver. In the closet could be seen silver and gold dishes and 
some few pieces of porcelain and china. . 

There was a stately doorway at the opposite end of the 
room, the frame work of which was massive and wonderful lv 



62 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

carved, and in the center of its top there was a shield in which 
were carved two heraldic devices. The doorway suggested an 
entrance to a cathedral, and the two doors which hung therein 
were of iron, partially rusted and ornamented. They were 
closed and therefore what room was beyond, Rollins could not see. 

The most interesting features of the room were the many 
pieces of armor, shields and spears, and the magnificent oriental 
rug that covered nearly the whole rough floor. To judge from 
the marks and symbols on the various shields, many different 
persons or families were represented by them, and while most 
of the articles of battle were strange and old, they showed 
signs of having been used. 

The room was comfortably warm and very quiet. Nothing 
but the occasional crackling of the burning logs disturbed the 
stillness that was like the stillness of a tomb. Rollins decided 
to investigate and moved toward the great door. His feet 
seemed heavy and unnatural, though the movement of his body 
was light and almost without weight. He glanced at his 
feet. They w T ere covered with heavy leather boots with metal 
pieces over the toes. When the heels touched upon the uncovered 
portion of the rough stone floor, they made a noise that sug- 
gested metal on the heels. He looked at his costume. It was 
like those he had seen worn on the stage in Shakespearean plays. 
Knee breeches of a dark, heavy material, a tight fitting coat 
of a lighter material, a soft collarless shirt, light blue in color, 
and a heavy plush or velour band of dark red about his abdomen. 
Surprised at his appearance, he could not reason about it, for 
the mind seemed to refuse to reason, to argue that it was useless 
and of no immediate need. 

At the side of the door there hung a heavy silken rope. 
Its position and nature suggested its use and Rollins, w 7 ith the 
most natural air, stepped forward and pulled it twice. He 
waited. He heard a metallic clanging at the door and slowly 
the two parts of the door separated and there stood before him, 
against the dark background of an unlighted hallway, a tall 
heavily built man in a robe of gray tied about the waist with 
a gray cord. He bowed very courteously and said in a soft 
voice and with pure French which Rollins' mind easily and 
immediately interpreted into English : 

"Your wish, my lord? And, .... pardon the privilege 
that bespeaks my lord's generosity .... I hope . . . . I 
pray .... that all your wishes may be granted .... this day." 

The feeling of surprise that came to Rollins was not nearly 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 53 

A newspaper is a press-agent of business and a tattle-teller of 
personal things. Bah! you know how many of my associates, 
and even myself, have looked upon life and all there is to it. 
You seem surprised at what I say, and yet, mother, you must 
have felt many times that that was how I looked upon all 
things. But I realize now that there is something even more 
interesting than the problems of production and selling, manu- 
facturing and marketing, cost and profit, profit and loss. Maybe 
I have crossed the bridge between the follies of youth and the 
imbecilities of old age ; perhaps I am on the brink of that last 
span of life. But this I know, I am more enthusiastic about 
the past and the future today than I have ever been. 

"Men are always so self-centered. The average business 
man cares more about his personal ego, the self within and 
around him, than about the rest of the world. Yet, I see now, 
where I and others have been cheating ourselves in ignoring 
some of the facts of life in our desire to put the sun of the 
universe in our own individual solar plexuses. 

"The average business man seeks power — dominating, increas- 
ing, unflinching power. But he has overlooked the one great 
source of power — knowledge of the real self and its possibilities. 
Every great or prominent man in the world today boasts of 
his ancestry, is proud of the forebears who achieved, and he 
looks to their strength to help him dominate the world today. 
But he misses the greatest prop, the strongest foundation, in 
overlooking the ancestry of the mind that rules him — the mind 
which is his own and vet not his own. Every mighty factor 
in the big-business w r orld today seeks to be well informed 
regarding every law of city, county, state and land that he 
may take advantage of any potent power therein. He seeks, 
through his hired advisors, to utilize every power that the 
courts and constitutions of business give him. He engages 
experts to keep him posted on the advances of scientific achieve- 
ment, that he may utilize the power or privileges which science 
reveals. He looks for opportunities everywhere to make himself 
great, mighty, controlling, dominating, feared and — wealthy. But 
he overlooks the laws of nature and the wonderful possibilities 
of power that must be hidden in her processes and in her ways. 
I see the great mistake now. I am going to change my life — 
and before it is too late, I am going to make myself mighty 
with some knowledee that courts of law in man's land, bankruptcy 
proceedings, business failures and market quotations cannot take 



54 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

from me. That's my determination, and so now I want to 
hear more about the reincarnation of the blood." 

"I am afraid," she began timidly, "that you are not using 
a term that science would accept, for science really has taken up 
this subject in a way that will be hard for me to explain. 
But the term reincarnation would be rejected by science. In its 
plarce the term continuity of the germplasm should be substituted. 

"You see, William, for years many forms of insanity, such as 
dementia praecox, for instance, have been considered as traceable 
to hereditary traits or taints. Then, again, many mental habits, 
physical habits and general tendencies are also traced to the 
result of heredity and they are called inherited characteristics. 
Up to a few years ago, the principles of heredity were con- 
sidered as theoretical, and science smiled at many of them. Now, 
recent discoveries or rather observations, reveal that the prin- 
ciples so long advanced are true and other principles not even 
suspected are also true. 

"Man as a specie of animal life is just the result of inheritance. 
Every trait of character, of mind and body, like the specie of his 
physical being, come to him as an inheritance or because of his 
environment and education. The doctrine that 'as man thinketh 
so is he' applies only to those few traits classified as acquired 
characteristics; otherwise man is what his forbears have made 
him through their thinking, their living, their environment and 
their education. Every man is the sum total of his direct line 
of parentage and is himself adding to that sum for the next 
generation. 

"It was believed at one time that the germplasm of both 
male and female parents were creations of the organism of 
the individual parent, and that each germplasm contained only 
the characteristics of the parent. Now it is known that the 
germplasm that enters into the formation of an embryo contains 
not only the characteristics of the parent, but also of the grand- 
parents for many, many generations." 

"Why, mother, do you mean to say that the germplasm 
entering into each embryo was not a distinct and individualistic 
creation in the body of the parent ? In other words, is the 
germplasm a continuous element or essence never losing its 
entity and individualistic nature from generation to generation?" 

"Precisely, William. That is what is termed the continuity 
of the germplasm. This germplasm contains the elements of 
character and specie. It passes from generation to generation 
and gives from itself the necessary elements to reproduce its 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 55 

nature and characteristics but is never wholly lost in the process. 
Each generation of specie adds to it of its acquired characteristics, 
so that from generation to generation, it is always the sum 
of all that has passed before it. All this was made so plain 
and clear with diagrams and illustrations the other evening — 
Thursday evening — at the monthly meeting of the Civic Hygiene 
Board. The professor has been giving us a series of talks on 
the subject of heredity and we understand now the meaning of 
the admonition 'unto the fourth and fifth generations', and so on. 

"You see, each cell of living matter utilized in the process 
of fertilization and development into the embryo first passes 
through a series of divisions so that the final cell of the female, 
called the ovum, and the final cell of the male, called the 
spermatozoon, is composed of certain portions of the original 
germplasm. In the nucleus of the cell there are the hereditary 
elements called Chromosomes and these according to a definite 
law are numbered in each cell for specie, nature and condition. 
The remainder of the cell has its bearing upon the character of 
the embryo, of course, but it has to do more with the modi- 
fications that are to be made by each generation and are accumu- 
lated by each and passed along." 

"Does that mean?" he inquired after some thought, "that 
in my body, in my blood, tissue and bones, there is some of 
the identical elements that composed the blood, tissue and bones 
of my ancestors, my remotest ancestors?" 

"Yes, in a direct line. And all your brothers, all your 
cousins, every one in this generation of your family, would have 
the same elements plus the modification resulting from marriage 
in the previous generation. Within your body, William, in 
the cells that will reproduce themselves and fertilize the ovum, 
there is chromatin substance, which becomes the essential Chromo- 
somes, and this chromatin within the cells of your body is some 
of the identical chromatin that existed in the cells of your 
most remote grandfather and grandmother." 

"Then that means that instead of new Chromosomes being 
created by each generation, the Chromosomes simply duplicate 
themselves and continue to divide and divide until in the last 
generation, perhaps after a hundred generations, there is still 
some of the same Chromosomes?" 

"Precisely. Yet, in dividing, these Chromosomes do not 
weaken in characteristics or essential nature. In each genera- 
tion they divide many times and each divided segment grows 
to full size again, retaining its precise nature, readv to fertilize 



56 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

an ovum and within that ovum reproduce its nature again. 
This is what science has recently discovered and proven to be 
true. Remember, William, these Chromosomes of the cells, 
microscopically small as they are, contain the elements of every 
other cell that form the many kinds of cells in a matured body, 
plus characteristics of specie, plus characteristics of appearance, 
even family resemblance, plus nature, plus mind, plus tendencies, 
plus everything that makes personality and individuality. That 
which makes you distinctly different from all other men, as well 
as that which makes you precisely like every other man, and that 
which makes you a child of a certain line of ancestry — all this is 
contained in the Chromosomes of every one of the hundreds of 
cells that mature in the body for the purpose of reproduction." 

"That is astounding, Mother! Why, then, the blood in my 
body, the bones, the tissues and membranes of every organ and 
muscle and vessel, the cells of the hair, of the brain — all within 
and of me, is that of my foreparents, reborn. I am not I, 
but all of my forefathers and foremothers united. They did not 
die, for, I am all of them reborn ! What they cast off were 
dying cells while other cells of their bodies were perpetuated 
and lived and now are in me!" 

"But that is merely an exaggerated and bombastic way to 
look at it. But you can safely say that you are what they were, 
plus what you have added by education and environment." 

"And," he said rather slowly, "if all that is true — and I can 
not doubt it if science has found the law — I am — well, with a 
reincarnated soul .... a sort of dual person, after all, for, the 
flesh and bones and blood of my body are of the family of 
Rollins .... but the Soul and mind within me are .... that 
of Raymond .... and possibly others." 

"Why, what do you mean?" the mother asked, surprised. 

"I cannot fully explain, not at this time. I must have a 

little more time to work it out, but a great light is dawning 

Upon me and I think I see the scheme of the universe revealing 

itself to me as few have ever dreamed of it. I must learn 

more .... but how?" 

"I cannot help you in your strange thinking, William. 
I am quite satisfied with what the Professor told us. We arc 
nothing more or less than what our foreparents made us — plus 
environment and education." 

"No, no, mother. You are wrong. All that you have said 
may be true, and I believe every word of it. It cannot be 
otherwise. I see that plainly. But, all you have referred to, 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 57 

all that science has discovered, relates to the physical and worldly 
man, the material and brain part of man. There is — the Soul — 
the memory — the inner personality. That cannot be transmitted 
by chemical or physical substance, and that is what I am 
interested in now. Pardon me, mother. I must return to my 
study. I must finish my little researches today. Tomorrow 
the business world begins again and I am going to enter it 
with a different spirit. This earth — this world is now my home, 
and men and women are now my kin — my brethren. I will 
deal with them as such — even to the most humble in my employ. 
I have a work to do — a message to bring to the cold world 
of business. Perhaps I have found my mission, the Light that 
must shine through me." 

And off he went to his study, moved inwardly by the 
gradual realization of the touch of divine inspiration. He was 
no longer William Howard Rollins, the business man, but 
a Light on earth, an incarnated Soul, an earthly segment of 
the Divine with an earthly mission. His mother watched him 
leave her presence in thought and knew that it was a changed 
man who dwelt in her house ; and somehow, strange though 
it seemed, she looked upon his moving figure with reverence 
as though through the room and out into the halls there moved 
silently the figure of the Master Jesus who had come to break 
bread with her and go on to the work that must be done. 

God's presence was there; she felt it, knew it. But how? 
How came this through a man who had never before indicated 
even the slightest interest in Church, the Bible, or God? A 
miracle had been wrought since yesterday. Today was the 
anniversary of his birth ; it was more than this — it was the day 
of his rebirth, she thought. It was the day of awakening, 
the holv dav of illumination — resurrection. 



CHAPTER VII 



The Threshold 

Returning to his study, Rollins put away the book on 
Heredity with a smile. He had saved it as being the last 
word on that subject, but, evidently, it had become antiquated 
by the recent discoveries in that field ; and he pondered over 
the rapid changes that were being made in scientific principles 
and more especially in the knowledge of man and nature. 

"Truly, he said to himself, "little that one knows is of a 
nature to remain permanently. Change, change, change! That 
is all there is, even to knowledge. The great Greek philosopher 
who said that 'matter is always becoming was certainly right 
and it applies to our knowledge as well. Matter is always 
changing, becoming something and never really is something 
for any length of time. Knowledge is also becoming more and 
more accurate, more nearly true, and the facts or theories of 
yesterday may be fallacies or superstitions tomorrow." 

The word yesterday brought to mind the Diary. He had 
not completed his analysis of it, and tomorrow business began 
again for the new fiscal year. He must complete his review 
of the. yesterdays in that book. 

Closing the bookcase, he took his Diary from the desk 
again, seated himself in an easy chair, adjusted the reading light 
and with a sigh, leaned back comfortably to think. That book! 
The Diary! Was it alive? Did it have between its pages people, 
places, conditions, all animated with a vibrating life? Could 
he not feel a vibrant essence fairly pushing itself through the 
covers and from the edges of the leaves? His arm trembled 
from the pulsations it gave to his hand. More than a year of 
life and action w 7 as represented in that book's notations. A 
life time — a generation, many generations, all time past, a thousand 
years, perhaps a million of yesterdays, were recorded there. It 
was not a book, it was a key to the past — the key that unlocked 
the chambers of the past. 

Again his mind reverted to the scenes he had witnessed and 
he wished they would come again, or others — more yesterdays. 
The wish! It started a stream of tingling throughout his body. 
He closed his eves, he relaxed. He was entranced. The wish! 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 59 

It was a command ! It was as though a great gong had sounded. 
He could feel and hear the vibrations of the gong's note in 
the air. Was this what occurred when Aladdin rubbed the lamp 
and wished? Was there something psychological in a sincere 
wish expressed or realized at the right moment? He was lost 
in the mystery of this sudden experience. 

Psychology has often said, as an axiom, that suggestion 
results in the realization of anticipation in those cases where 
the suggestion is given by oneself — or given as auto-suggestion. 
In other words, w T hen the process or formula of auto-suggestion 
is indulged in, it presupposes on the part of the person certain 
anticipation of results. Psychology claims that such anticipation 
is necessary, is a prerequisite to realization. That fact is, however, 
that if there was no anticipation there would be no suggestion 
given. It is the hope, the faith, the belief, that there will 
be a result that induces, encourages, the person to give the mind 
a suggestion. Without such faith, hope or belief, no matter 
how mild or weak it may be, no one would purposely give an 
auto-suggestion. Therefore, not only must anticipation precede the 
realization but it must precede the suggestion. That unconscious 
suggestions — auto-suggestions even — do produce results in the 
absence of any anticipations, does not affect the law or prin- 
ciple. In those cases where it has been demonstrated that an 
unconscious suggestion given to oneself has resulted in keen 
realization, it has been found, after careful analysis, that preced- 
ing the suggestion there was fear of realization or its antithesis. 
In substance then, the same condition existed. 

The psychology of prayer reveals that certain psychological 
or psychomental conditions are existing and certain laws operat- 
ing. Prayer is not, therefore, the shallow tenet of religion, 
but the concrete manifestation of a subconscious process of mind. 
In every sincere wish, in every lingering hope, in every sincere 
desire, in every conscious longing, there is the essence of prayer. 
Prayer is but the deliberate expression of an inner desire — a 
hope of mind. It is deified when it is expressed to God, and 
this adds to the faith, the hope, the belief in its potency. For. 
who would pray to God did he not first believe that God would 
hear and answer ? 

And the realizations to such prayers. What of them? Are 
they even more than realities of the mind, a condition of the 
Soul? We pray for the speedy recovery of a sick one. Health 
comes; we are made happv at the change. We recall our 
prayers, our petitions to God. Our faith makes us believe that 



60 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

the change that has come is a direct result of our prayers. 
God has wrought another miracle. With reverence and humility 
we gladly credit God with direct intervention. In that belief, 
in that faith, in that purely mental realization, we find happiness, 
joy and firmer trust in the efficacy of prayer. When the prayer 
brings not the desired result, if death comes to the sick one, 
we ease our minds, we excuse the disappointment, with the 
expression of faith in the better judgment of God. Our belief 
in the value of prayer is not lessened. In either case, the 
results of prayer remain, to each individual, a psychopathic, 
mental, condition. 

Naturally, metaphysics and mysticism ascribe other powers 
to prayer. It teaches us that in prayer to God the essential 
element is a sincere desire, a cherished hope, a clean thought, 
with all the elements of goodness and, usually, unselfishness; 
and that in the process of prayer, in the very attitude of p.rayer, 
we attune ourselves, our minds with the Infinite, the Cosmic, 
the Divine Mind that pervades all things and is everywhere. 
That in mental or audible prayer, we formulate the desire in a 
definite phrase, we visualize the anticipated results and then, 
release that desire into the Cosmic where it naturally vibrates 
with the constructive forces, the love and goodness of Divine 
plans ; and the thought, with its mystic potency, brings results. 
This does not eliminate the intervention of God, but it reduces 
it from direct to indirect, from personal to impersonal, from 
specific to general. Such philosophy is the basis of much won- 
derful teaching and it reveals laws and principles but little 
realized by man. 

But to Rollins there was no mistaking the fact that the 
desire, almost definitely and audibly expressed, produced an imme- 
diate effect. The desire to have the Diary reveal another yester- 
day! Was there not reason for anticipation? Was there not 
warrant for faith in the power of that book to open the doorway 
to the past and show there a scene of activity? 

* * * * 

Minutes or hours may have passed, while Rollins held the 
Diary in his hand. He did not know, he was not conscious 
of time. But he watched with concentrated interest the slow 
development of a great haze of light that gathered in the corner 
of his room again. He did not know whether his eyes were 
open or closed — he would not even try to discover. What he 
saw was as real to his senses as anything that the objective 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS qr 

dining room Rollins wended his way. determined to submit to 
her his newest problem. 

After lunch had been partially served the discussion began. 
It would help to make their time of sitting together that much 
longer. 

"Little mother, did you ever read or hear anything about 
the rebirth or shall I say, the reincarnation, of souls?" he began. 

"Not a great deal, William!" she replied, plainly surprised 
at the question and more surprised at the trend of his thoughts. 
"You know the Bible speaks of several instances where the 
prophets were, seemingly, wise men who came back to earth 
to live again. But I presume that you refer to the teachings 
of some new T school of philosophy. I have not studied them 
nor even read more than that there is some theory of reincarna- 
tion, as they call it." 

"But, mother, from what you have read or heard, can 
you tell me ivhat it is that reincarnates or is reborn? I realize 
that it is not the body, nor the blood, nor . . . ' 

"But you are mistaken, William, right at the start, or 
rather, information which you have in that regard is erroneous. 
From the little that I have heard, I believe it is claimed, and 
quite logically, that the Soul, being divine and immortal, is 
the part of man which is reborn in man. Upon this is the 
doctrine of reincarnation based. Of its principles I can say 
but little, but I stopped you in your statement because you 
were touching upon a subject in w T hich I have interested myself 
very considerably. You remember giving me a book on heredity 
to read? In it I found many interesting facts regarding eugenics 
and child-hygiene. That, you know, has always interested me, 
and I believe you can . now associate my interest in that subject 
with — your own birth. I remember reading one time a book 
called 'Being Well Born.' It opened again the sad event of 
your birth and the chapters of my life in the past. But I 
found much satisfaction in some of the principles set forth 
and from that time on, I devoted my study hours to that 
subject and gave my spare time to helping the Civic Hygiene 
Board of this city. Do you know,- William, that it has been 
found that the blood of one's body is essentially reincarnated 
from generation to generation, as is claimed for the Soul? 
It w r as your statement that it is not the body, nor the blood, 
that reincarnates which made me interrupt you. I am quite 
sure you were in error." 

"This is intensely interesting, and I want to hear more 



52 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

about it. In fact, mother, it seems to me, I am in a new world 
these last twenty-four hours. How greatly I have neglected 
my reading, and how I have locked myself up in the business 
world and ignored the greater world of science, or at least, 
philosophy; for I do not suppose that the principles you are 
speaking of, or those which interest me in the Soul, are even 
honored by any attention on the part of cold science. You see, 
a business man gets into the habit of thinking the whole world 
consists of business. Every man and woman one meets must 
be in some business or else they belong to the other class — 
consumers, customers, or clients. A man is always a potential 
pow T er in dollars and cents, or else he is nothing. A woman 
is always — well a mother, or a wife, or a sweetheart, or a 
plaything, with no place in big business and incompetent to 
assume such a place. The face of the earth is covered with 
either oil wells, mineral mines, coal mines and timber, rail- 
roads or steamship lines. The sun shines to help salesmen 
make more calls, the rain falls to help the crops and prevent 
market losses. A day consists of one-sixth of a business week 
and time is governed by time-clocks and production-costs and 
payrolls. Sunday is a day for going over books and making 
a few personal calls at homes when it is difficult to meet men 
at business. Plays, theaters and places of amusement are for 
salesmen to take their prospective customers that they may bribe 
orders and win favors — and they help keep money in circulation. 
Churches are to ease the dissatisfaction of the laboring classes, 
make them feel joyous with spiritual things when they have 
nothing of the material world, and promise them everything 
in the future if they remain good with nothing here. Marriage 
is sentimental foolishness with the young, and a business deal, a 
financial alliance, with the old. Children are elements of a 
big field of business — hats, shoes, clothes, books, toys and insur- 
ance policies. Life is a bridge of possibilities between the follies 
of youth and the imbecilities of old age. Love is a condition 
of the mind that helps business — watches, rings, more jewelry, 
clothes, fine stationery, books, candy and hundreds of other 
things which would not be. made or sold otherwise. Death 
is a cheater or an easy way out, according to one's predicament 
at the time. Home is a business asset, counting more in a 
business man's rating on the market than in any other way. 
Mothers are a necessity and a dependable help in time of personal 
emergency. The past belongs to the failures in life, the present 
belongs to the successes and the future belongs to the dreamers. 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 63 

so great as must have been the surprise in the mind of the 
servant at his own boldness in thus speaking; tor Rollins could 
not feel otherwise than that this strange incident was truly 
a part of his life — new and yet familiar — unexpected and yet 
anticipated. Marry questions arose in the mind of Rollins, but 
something again told him that it was unnecessary, that, in fact, 
his questions would be illogical and he could easily answer 
them by thinking. 

But — he had called the servant — he must say something. 
Could he answer in French ? He dared not try. He was 
thinking in English, or rather in good American. Perhaps he 
could simply gesticulate. What idea then should he express? 
Ah ! He would ask for his hat, by simply making .... 

"I will have my hat!" The words came forth with a vim, 
before Rollins could control his tongue. His mind had formu- 
lated the idea and it expressed itself in words immediately. They 
w T ere in French, too; and although Rollins knew but the rudi- 
ments of the language, he was not surprised — could not be 
surprised — at his ability to speak French. 

The servant seemed to understand, but replied with a quiz- 
zical tone: "Oc — le causia?" 

Rollins nodded consent before he could realize w r hat the 
question meant. Then the words translated themselves. "Yes — 
the causia?" What was a causia"? He had nodded approval 
and .... w 7 hy it was a style of hat, a particular design. 
The answ r er came inwardly, instantly. And then — why oc for 
yes? He had expected oui — but oui was modern French, the 
French Rollins had learned at College, and oc w T as .... the 
language of ... . the old Provinces. Was he now in Languedoc, 
the ancient Province of the south of France ? Again the answ T er 
came and — it seemed so natural! 

The servant soon returned bearing a large felt hat that 
had a very high crown, a broad brim slightly rolled and a 
small feather sticking from a cord in the back of the crown. 
Without betraying any surprise at the hat he placed it on his 
head and moved • toward the center of the hall as though to 
pass somewhere. He must go out of the building as an excuse 
for asking for the hat. The servant preceded him in turning 
toward the left and then, after ringing a bell by pulling another 
rope, unfastened some heavy cross pieces of metal and slowly, 
with great exertion, opened wide the two massive metal doors 
that let in a great burst of sunlight flooding the hallway. Through 



6 4 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 



this Rollins walked and out on to a balcony or porch of marble 
and peculiar white rock, while the doors slowly closed behind him. 

Before him there was spread the strangest and yet the most 
enticing and alluring landscape he had ever seen. It was indeed, 
like the land of fairies. The intense blueness of the sky, spotted 
with only an occasional small gray cloud, the vivid greens of 
more shades than nature provided in America, the distant hills 
toppled with walls that surrounded old castles or chateaux ; the 
trees as the sides of the winding roads that led from the fore- 
ground to the distance, covered with a white that looked as 
pure as snow, and, as the wind blew, lifted up into the air 
and tinted the trees with white until the sides of them nearest 
the roads looked like Christmas trees decorated for the day; 
the unusually bright sunlight, the invigorating air, the faint 
and pleasing fragrance of the flowers and plants — all held Rollins 
in a trance, and he thought only of how wonderful a picture 
it would make, if he were only an artist. If he could but 
paint! The thought seemed to find some response in his mind — 
but immediately came the answer — but you cannot paint. With 
a sigh of regret, he turned again to the left and stepped down 
the wide stairway to the garden at the side of the building, 
where in sunken sections between stony pathways there were 
many flowers blooming, and in the center of all a beautiful 
fountain playing, permitting the light winds to waft to his face 
the most delicate sprays of refreshing dew. 

He would examine the building and see its size. Instinct- 
ively he knew that he was at the rear of the building and 
walked along the widest path to another corner of the building. 
He noticed without any considerable interest that the windows 
were well protected with iron bars and others were exceedingly 
narrow — too narrow for the passage of a human body. On 
one side of the building there was another doorway, smaller 
than the one through which he had passed but closed with 
massive iron doors. At the next corner there was a large 
turret in which there were narrow windows at various levels. 
A casual interest in them caused him to glance upward at the 
other parts of the building and he noted, again- without surprise, 
that the second story of the building was much smaller than 
the lower floor and that there was a small wall around the 
edge of the roof, the wall being penetrated at places by the 
projecting bodies of ... . gargoyles. The word came almost 
immediately from .... memory! 

After circuiting the house he walked down the slightly 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 65 

descending path toward the open field on the other side of 
which there seemed to be a public road — the one which w r as 
painted with the pure white powder of some kind. Approaching 
this, he was delighted to find his surmise correct. The road 
was made of broken pieces of w 7 hite chalkstone and had been 
powdered by continued use. He stopped and picked up a small 
piece of the unpowdered stone and found that he could break it 
with his hands. As he w T alked he came to a small stone bridge 
over a dry creek and these stones of the bridge wall were 
large pieces of the white chalk. In them initials and symbols 
had been cut or scratched. He could dig into the surface 
of the stone with his finger nail! What wonderful stone, so 
white, so soft. 

Walking for perhaps two miles he came to a small building 
of very old appearance, situated in the very center of the inser- 
tion of four roads which crossed at this point. Reaching the 
building, which he noticed now w r as in ruin in some parts, 
he saw that some horses, perhaps fifteen, in ancient coverings, 
were standing at one side of the building. Within there was 
chanting. The rhythmic intonations, the pauses, the very response 
that his Soul gave to the sounds, indicated that some sacred 
chant was being expressed by a number of voices. He approached 
the door. There was but one step, and this he took, bringing 
himself on the very threshold of an unknown temple. But, 
stranger though he knew himself to be, it seemed not only 
familiar, but the right thing to do — he must enter! 

Once within, he noted that there was no roof to this old 
building, nor had there ever been. There was no provision for 
one. It was an open-air temple — of Roman design. At the 
four sides of the square room there were separate altars upon 
a slightly raised platform. Before each altar a fire w r as burning, 
and fronting each of these were two rows of rough wooden 
benches. Upon these benches sat men and women, with heads 
bowed down, chanting this sacred, soul-stirring incantation. The 
walls were of stone, but decorated with symbols w T hich seemed 
familiar but nameless. Back of each altar but one, stood a man 
in just such costume as he wore, without the hat, apparently 
leading the chant, while occasionally a girl of youthful age, 
dressed in flowing white, would pass from altar-fire to altar-fire 
and drop into the fire from the metal prongs she used, a piece 
of black — charcoal. The word came instantly; he need never 
hesitate for the right word, he found. She took these pieces of 
charcoal from a bright brass or gold vessel — hammered or deco- 



66 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

rated metal — again the right description came from within and 
said a few words which Rollins could not hear. 

His entrance into the temple did not surprise any of those 
present, and with an urge that came from the inner conscious- 
ness, he slowly walked to the vacant altar place and, taking off 
his hat, faced those on the benches before him — and began to 
chant in this strange tongue : 

"Deus, in adjuto . . . rium meum intend . . . de. 
Domine ... ad adjuvandum me festina. Gloria . . . 
Patri, . . . et Filio, . . . et . . . Spiritu sancto. Sicut 
erat in principio, . . . et nunc, et sem . . . pre, et in 
saecula, saeculorum . . . A . . . MEN . . . Al — le — 
lu— ja." 

As he chanted he marveled at the beauty of cadence, the 
maintained antiphon, the unison of diction and the perfect melodic 
phrasing. He listened to his own voice with interest, and now 
began to wonder why he persistently asked, how is this? and 
why? Was this not his custom, his usual life? And while 
the outer man's mind wanted to cry, no, no! the inner voice 
said, be patient, calm! 

The service being finished all arose and slowly filed from 
the temple after making some salutation to the altar-fire. Not 
wishing to speak to the other three men who remained in. the 
stations at the altars, he stepped down from the platform and 
slowly left the building without being approached by any one 
of the others when they prepared to walk or to ride their horses. 

Returning to the great door of the chateau, he saw no means 
of signaling for entrance and was about to question his mind 
in this regard when the doors began to open and he found his 
servant greeting him again with the same polite bow. Entering 
the hall he faced its rear for the first time and saw that it 
led to other rooms and to an old stone stairway. 

Motioning to the servant to come with him into the large 
chamber with the open fireplace, he was pleased to see that 
the servant seemed to anticipate his desire and was even now pre- 
paring to open those two heavy doors in the center of the 
carved doorway. 

Suddenly the doors opened wide and as Rollins was about 
to step lightly across the threshold into what he thought would 
be solitude with an opportunity to question the servant, he found 
himself facing a throng of men and women in gay costume 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 67 

who lifted high their voices in great exclamations of some kind. 
One by one the men approached him and shook his hand, kissed 
him on both cheeks and otherwise indicated their greetings. 
The women bowed with courtly bow and made many dainty, 
softly spoken wishes in French to him, not one of which could 
he completely realize. 

Approaching the center of the room he saw that the great 
carved table w T as covered with woven linens and embroidered 
satins, all in white. Silver and gold dishes were placed as 
for a banquet. There was fruit and — at each place some flowers. 
Large silver goblets were set at various parts of the table and 
there were other articles which seemed familiar, but likewise 
nameless at just this time. 

Almost automatically he walked to the end of the table and 
took a place before a larger chair. The others stepped to their 
places about the table and stood waiting. He made a motion 
for all to be seated and in the most matter-of-fact manner 
sat down in his chair with a sigh. He must not stop to think: 
he was being scrutinized. They were waiting for him to do 
something, but what? His mind w T as sluggish; again and again 
in the silence of their waiting, he tried to reason, but reason 
was inhibited. His thinking ability seemed paralyzed. Why 
couldn't he think this thing all out? Why were so many 
here and why were they waiting for him? He must . . . but 
the answer came now, as he paused, and rising in his place 
he raised both arms and fairly shouted with excitement: 

"A bras ouverts — suaviter en modo !" 

And almost in unison, each arose and lifting their right 
hands high and with surprise on their faces — too evident to 
be concealed or mistaken by Rollins — they cried : 

"Pax vobiscum!" 

Seated again, many fell into conversation while Rollins 
simply waited for developments. There was mental stupor 
that permitted him simply to realize and act automatically as 
the inspiration came. He was an actor in an unknown play 
that was so very familiar. 

Many servants now waited upon them. Great dishes of 
vegetables were served and then at just the right moment a 
large wooden platter was carried in by two men servants con- 
taining a huge lamb, roasted and steaming hot, decorated with 
greens and spices. Its aroma was alluring to the senses and its 
picturesqueness suggested a great feast in Babylon. 

The roast was set before Rollins and a servant handed 



68 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

him a great knife, an ungainly thing of iron or steel, with 
sharp edge, and with it a one-prong fork. He cut and carved 
with more understanding and success than he had expected 
and hurriedly finished for the last plate that the servants passed 
to him. An idea had come to him. He would hurry through 
the banquet and through dexterous means secure some informa- 
tion from one of the servants as to what this all meant and 
who he was. 

Sitting down again to eat, for he had had to stand to 
carve so large a roast, he found the servant ready to hand 
him the plate filled with meat and vegetables. Looking for 
knife, he saw no forks and glancing around saw that all were 
using their fingers to pick apart the meat and vegetables and 
to pass the food to their mouths. He was handed a very large 
serviet or cloth which he saw others were using to dry or 
clean their fingers after every few minutes, and, without further 
analysis, he too, ate in this manner. 

After an hour of eating to an extent that seemed almost 
animal-like in its persistence, wine was poured from large 
silver and porcelain vessels into the gold goblets. With the 
wine a broken cake was served, and fruit. 

As another hour passed and the sun turned into a beauti- 
ful gold and sent its beams across the table to tinge the 
heightened color of the faces of the guests, one by one they 
began to rise, and with unsteady hand to hold aloft a goblet 
of wine and to make toasts in uncertain words. The toasts 
were directed to him — Rollins! To each in turn he nodded 
appreciation, but each toast simply added to his determination to 
hold a very serious interview with some one, quickly. 

The servants were now bringing in small silver dishes 
containing water and placed them before each guest. Each 
in turn dipped the soiled and greasy hands into the water and 
washed them. Then, drying their hands upon the large serviet 
in their laps, they passed them on to the servants and arose 
from the table. In a few minutes all were standing again 
and the servants were hurriedly removing all the dishes. A 
small doorway or opening in one part of the wall adjoining 
the dish-closet served as a means for the passage of the dishes 
out of the room. The large table was now being moved farther 
from the great fireplace and — over at one part of the room a 
servant was lighting a number of candles in silver candlesticks. 
He was placing them in parts of the room. More logs were 
placed upon the fire — something was being prepared for and 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 69 

much interest was being shown by the men in the preparations, 
for they were directing the servants. 

Another servant entered the room and motioned to some 
of the ladies that something was prepared outside and they smiled 
and with great expectancy left the room through the great 
doorway. Now another servant entered and carried in his arms 
a number of cages, in some of which were large black birds 
with strong curved bills and sharp claws, and in others there 
were what seemed to be small white pigeons. 

The men gathered around these cages, selecting some of 
them with great enthusiasm. Each seemed to want some par- 
ticular black bird, and the birds were examined as analytically 
as one would examine a well-bred horse. Rollins stood motionless 
in the corner of the room and watched this proceeding as 
though he had seen it many times before but still knew not 
the mystery of it. 

Finally the men closed all doors and saw that the windows 
were well screened, and then released the white birds which 
proved to be wild pigeons. They flew to the top of the room 
and tried to find resting place on the beams of the ceiling, 
fully sixty feet above the floor and where it was almost too 
dark to see them. They were crying and making a horrifying 
sound, when the other cages were opened one by one and the 
legs of each black bird were marked for identification. Then, 
simultaneously, all the black birds were released from the hands 
of the men and they flew with wildness to the ceiling. 

The scene then became distressing, cruel, terrible. The 
black birds seized the white pigeons and plunged their awful 
bills around the necks of the pigeons. They fought, they 
cried; the men cheered. It was a battle royal between each 
pigeon and each black bird, with the pigeon hopelessly beaten. 
The black birds would drop down, soar down, to the men. 
with their prey in their bills dripping with blood, the gory 
spots on the white feathers standing like blotches on the shield 
of man's honor. 

Rollins could not stand it. Whether the strong wine the 
men drank, or the custom of the times or both, were responsible 
for such cruel pastimes, he could not witness it and hold back 
the disdain, the disgust that was about to overwhelm him and 
make him stop the whole proceedings. But he must not do that. 
He was only a witness. He would not dare to interfere. But 
he could leave. Ah ! the opportunity to speak to the servant 
was at hand. He walked rapidly toward the door; as he did 
so a big black bird passed before his face with one of its prey, 



JO A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

and the dripping blood fell on his forehead and down to his 
hand. The blood of innocence ! The cries of anguish ! The 
sport of cruel hearts! Man's lowest instincts freely expressing! 
What a scene, what a shame ! He would have none of it ! 
He pushed open the door and stepped out into the hall and 
closed the doors behind him. As he did so there rang out a 
heart-rending, piercing scream from some soul in torture, while 
the men jeered and laughed, and other weak cries told of the 
last sobs of life in some white breast. That last cry — the cry 
of the lost life, the conquered existence, the torn body, the 
bleeding wound — the similarity! The symbol! The dove of 
peace! Slain! By man's cruel thinking, by man's earthly ways. 
The words came back again: 

"On that cross — the body of man — are many things crucified!" 

Rollins rushed to the stairway. There was no servant in 
sight. In a room nearby he could hear the laughs and remarks 
of the women, the ladies, who, in all compliance, left the men 
to enjoy their murderous habits and lust for blood. Was that 
womanhood? Had women not improved since the days of — 
that? Where was the boasted modern refinement, culture, 
and . . . ? But this was not modern times. The answer was 
distinct. This was the day of . . . 

Up the stairs he rushed and into the first open doorway. 
It was a bed-chamber. The bed, high from the floor, approached 
by two steps, was heavily and beautifully canopied. He closed 
the door behind him and dropped across it the iron bar. Then, 
in weariness and disgust, he flung himself upon the feathered 
bed, unmindful of the satins and laces, and buried his head 
in his hands and cried, sobbed, as his whole body shook with 
emotion : 

"God, good God, what a world and what a time! Have 
all men forgotten their greatest gift, the chivalry of manhood, 
the protecting power of their might over the weaker? Can 
men come from chanting of Thy goodness and enter into the 
destruction of the littlest beings? Then make me weak, God, 
make me weak, that I may not hurt, or see hurt — or permit the 
destruction of the smallest flower of the fields or the most 
minute animal of Thy world. Make me humble, make me 
simple, make me — kind — good — loving, all — and never too strong 
to destroy that which Thou hast made!" 

And as he prayed, his prayer was answered, for he felt 
the weakness come, and with it a simpleness of heart and mind, 
until, like the tired-out baby, sobbing its cry for the resting 
arms of mother, he lay on his side, and slept. 



CHAPTER VIII 



Illumination 

A peculiar metallic noise awakened the consciousness of 
Rollins, and he gradually realized that there was some dis- 
turbance at the door of the room in which he slept. He 
rose from the bed in a dazed mind and finding the room very 
dark, walked slowly about until he reached the iron door. 
As he neared it he saw that it became illuminated with a faint 
light that emanated from his body in all directions; and by 
its light he was able to find and lift the bar that held the 
door closed. 

As the door opened the same servant that had greeted 
him earlier in the day bowed again and said in French, softly 
and kindly: 

"I was concerned, my lord, for it is late and you sleep 
without the light and thy guests have departed without bidding 
adieu." 

"Come in and sit with me for I would ask you some questions." 
The words came easily, in French, and with a solicitation that 
seemed to surprise the servant who was more accustomed to 
brief commands. He entered slowly and Rollins closed the door. 
The servant lighted two candles which stood on an old carved 
dressing-table, over which hung a large piece of highly polished 
silver, evidently used as a mirror. 

Seated opposite each other in heavily cushioned chairs, 
Rollins thought for a moment or two before he spoke. How 
should he begin his questions without surprising the servant or 
arousing his suspicions? It was quite evident to the servant 
and to all who were there that day, that Rollins belonged 
there. Perhaps they thought it was his home? The term "my 
lord" used by the servant suggested that Rollins might even 
be the master of the household. If this was true, how could 
he consistently ask the questions which were uppermost in 
his mind? He must continue to act the part of the master of 
the castle until he had all the information he could secure in a 
diplomatic manner. And then — why then, w r hat? Could he leave 
this place? How came he here? Again he tried to reason it 
out and again he found his mind refusing to place facts in 



72 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

their proper and logical order for mental review. Again he 
found that deep in his consciousness, as though recalling a 
dream, he had a vague recollection that he was an American 
of the twentieth century, but uppermost in his consciousness 
was the dominating realization that he was here in this place 
at this time, and that he was equally at home and in the 
right environment. 

Yes, diplomacy must be used and some excuse must be 
given for asking the questions which would sound strange 
to the servant. Suddenly an idea came. He revolved it, tested 
it, and it seemed to be just the method to use. He would try it. 

"My man, I have something important to tell you. You see, 
I am not like myself today. I am strange." He waited to see 
how the servant would understand that. He noted with satis- 
faction that the man opposite him looked quizzically at him and 
then nodded in agreement. 

"I had an accident yesterday and when I awoke this morning 
my mind seemed to be dazed and I could not recall where I was 
and now I find I am puzzled as to who I am. I am sure I am 
not mistaken about some things, but I want to check the facts 
and be very sure before I talk with anyone of our, — that is any 
of my friends. Now, tell me first or all, — or rather, suppose 
vou get the pen and ink and some paper, and we will write down 
the facts. Go!" 

Pen and ink and paper! The words were in French, as was 
all that he had said to the servant, but Rollins wondered if he 
knew what was meant by such words in these days. But the 
servant was off to some other room, — he must have understood. 
After a few minutes he returned bearing a tray upon which 
Rollins saw a beautifully carved vessel which he instantly knew 
must be an ink-well, a' long feather or quill, and a roll of skin, 
as it seemed, and another silver vessel with perforated top. The 
servant placed the tray on his lap and moved close to Rollins so 
that their knees touched. Then he shoved the tray forward so 
that it rested on the laps of both. Rollins looked at the roll of 
skin first. It was nearly twelve inches square and wrinkled in 
places, with a shiny, almost greasy surface. He laid it down and at 
once the servant picked it up, flattened it out and sprinkled from 
the tall silver vessel some white powder on the surface of the skin 
and with the palm of his left hand rubbed the powder into its 
surface, and then blew off the surplus. Then he picked up the 
quill and dipped it into the smaller vessel and when he extracted 
it, it was covered with a thick, gummy black substance. He handed 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 73 

the quill to Rollins and held the skin flat for him to write. 
Rollins looked at the end of the quill and said : "What is that — 
on the quill?" 

"The carbon, my lord, 'tis very thick, but the parchment re- 
quires it and the gum will hold the carbon there very well." 

Rollins realized that this form of ink was different than what 
he seemed to recall, but it was too trivial a point to look into 
now. Then he passed the quill back to the servant and said : 

"I want you to write the answers to the questions. I will 
hold the, — the parchment. My hand is too nervous to write to- 
day." 

Arranging matters in this way, Rollins began his questioning 
again: "Now, then, tell me, what is my name? What? Guillaume, 
Viscount of Anduze? Write it! That's right! Now, eh, — Why 
am I Viscount of Anduze? — How t came it to be so? — Oh, so I am 
the son of Count Raymond, Lord of Anduze, Lord of Rodex and 
Millau and Viscount of Toulouse! Write it all down, carefully. 

"And where is my father? Indeed! Write that down, too, — 
be sure you put it completely, — 'advisor in Roman Law at 
Charlemagne's School of the Palace!' 

"Where is my mother? Oh, — I did not know, — but write it! 
'Buried in the left nave of the Cathedral of St. Sernin in Toulouse.' 

"I wish now that you would write down there my exact date 
of birth. That's right. Now tell me, what was I doing this 
morning at the little Temple or Church at the cross w^ays?" 

"Why, my lord, you were performing your usual festive duty 
this day. This, you know, is the day of the Compitalia, the 
annual festival held each year at this time, in honor of the Lares, 
the deities of the cross roads. You went, as was your duty as 
master of this villa, to the comp'ita, the chapel of the Lares, the 
ancient Roman divinities, situated on the cross roads, but now it 
is a temple to God. There are four altars there with four Sacred 
Fires, representing the four adjoining villas, an altar and a sacred 
fire for each castle and hearth of the four villas. The Master of 
each conducts the sacred festival while the subjects of the estate or 
province, represented by their principal chiefs, worship there. So, 
today, the first of January, you conducted the chanting for the 
representatives of your subjects as the other masters did for their 
subjects. For years your father performed this rite, and now, for 
the past three years, it has fallen to your lot. That is all." 

"Write it all down!" commanded Rollins and while the servant 
wrote he leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes to review 
aeain the morn in 2: festival. 



74 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

"Who was the young girl who attended the fire?" he 
started again. "She was the Vestal Virgin,, whose sole duty 
is to keep the sacred fire always burning in the chapel. It is a 
memorial of the ceremony at Rome when the Vestal Virgins 
kept burning day and night the sacred fire — a community fire — 
from which others might obtain hot coals for their home fires. 
It is now a symbol of community interest and therefore sacred 
trust and neighborly love. She is a virgin and must remain 
obedient to her duty as a virgin until of legal age. She lives 
not far away in the castle of your cousin who went to battle 
with the legions of the legates of the Roman Church, and — 
and he " 

"He never came back — I can quite understand that. Go on!" 
said Rollins, as memory served him in some peculiar way. 

"No, he never came back and no one ever learned of his 
end. But his young bride was cared for by you, just ." 

"Just as though she were my own wife. I understand that, 
too. My cousin's wife!" How strange and yet how familiar 
it seemed. 

"And now tell me just one more fact — and be sure to 
write down the answer. What was the cause, the reason, 
for the great celebration in the — the — great hall, downstairs 
this morning?" 

Surprised, the servant looked squarely into the eyes of the 
master before him. "Why, that feast, followed by the sport 
of Falconry, was at your command, your own request, planned 
yesterday — you recall yesterday? You asked for the lords and 
ladies, the nobility of these provinces, and you sent forth your 
herald to request their presence, for today is your birthday. 
Surely you have not forgotten that. The day you were to 
become Lord of Bellcastle — of this villa and the Province of 
Averyon." 

"Put that down there, my man, and I guess that is all. 
No, stop a moment. Tell me this. Am I married and if so, 
where is my wife?" 

"No, my lord, with the care of Lady Rollins, your cousin's 
wife, you have devoted yourself exclusively to her well being — 
but you are still young, and there is yet time to marry and 
carry forward the blood and name of your ancestors who have 
always been noble men." 

Writing this, the servant arose and left the parchment on 
the dresser, taking away with him the materials on the tray. 

Rollins closed the door tightly, folded the parchment in 



A THOl T SAXD YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 75 

his hands and clasping them threw himself back into the chair, 
closed his eyes and began to review the facts just revealed. 
There was much in the story that was just beyond the spoken 
words. This, the untold story, he must now comprehend, 

someway. 

* * * * 

For an hour Rollins sat in the chair thinking and dreaming. 
Gradually a sense of warmth came over him while a changing 
condition in the brain and nervous system indicated that he 
was modifying his consciousness in some manner. The first 
definite sensation was that there was a light on his eyes, then 
a weariness in his limbs with an accompanying desire to move 
them into a different position. In making this change his feet 
fell to the floor with a jarring of the body that caused him 
to open his eyes. His feet had slipped from the stool. There 
was an electric light at the side of his head. His reading 
lamp ! The fire in the fireplace ! He was in another room — 
the study at home! He was the modern, American Rollins 
again — at home ! 

Rising from the chair he noted that he still held in his 
hands the Diary. That key to the yesterdays! He walked 
about the room with the book in his hands behind him, nervously 
pacing and thinking, muttering such unconscious comments as 
seemed to come from a mind still in a maze. And as he 
reviewed his last experience he came to the last incidents — the 
servant writing the answers on the parchment, which he had 
determined to preserve. Oh! if it were only possible to preserve 
so concrete and material a thing from the past and have it 
now in the present! To actualize a reality; to materialize into 
the gross of the present the etheral fabrication of a dream. The 
ancient alchemists claimed to be able to do this; and Rollins knew 
that their present-day successors, the modern Brotherhood of Rosi- 
crucians exist today with their Lodges of active members, scientists 
and adepts located in so many cities, pursuing their studies in 
secret and claiming to know the laws whereby this is done. 
They alone would be able to explain all that Rollins had 
experienced within the past twenty-four hours, and while they 
are difficult to find, still, thought Rollins, now that he realized 
his mission, he would not rest until he had located one who 
would introduce him to their nearest group. 

Again he sat down in the easy chair and almost mechanically 
and unconsciously opened the Diary. He had not turned more 
than three or four pages when he was startled to see some 



76 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

bold, black writing covering the two open pages before him. 
Instantly he knew. Here were the written answers of the 
servant — and the servant's strange writing. 

As each answer was analyzed the whole conversation came 
back to him. He was again in the old bed-chamber of the 
castle. Then came the first written answer that had not been 
spoken. 

"Birthdate — January 1, 896." 

Rereading the statement several times, he passed to the 
last notation, the last written answer but one. 

"Today, your twenty-first birthday, you became Lord of 
Bellcastle and heir to the estates of Rollins." 

Born in 896! Twenty-one today! That means that today 
— the today of that experience, the today of my birthday cele- 
bration in that old provincial villa — was the year — 917! 

January 1st, 917! 

Rollins fairly shouted it. He jumped to his 'feet. On 
that day I became Lord Rollins. Today I am William Rollins. 
My name then, that day was Guillaume — William.; -■; What 
a remarkable coincidence ! Unmarried, caring for my: mother, 
my father caring for his cousin's wife, just as in recent years, 

the name Rollins, the name Raymond . What of the mark 

after the name Raymond on the painting? I have seen nothing of 
that, the mystery which started this piercing of the Veil. 

Again he glanced at the written pages before him. The 
page was signed, "Jordain, Secretaire to the house of Raymond 
IV." Raymond IV! The Fourth! Ah! The mark after 
the name on the painting was — V! Raymond V — the fifth of 
that name. The mystery was solved ! 

But above the signature of the secretary stood boldly forth 
the last statement to the last answer: "There is yet time to 
marry and carry forward the blood and name of your noble 
ancestors." 

Was that a command? It seemed to be a challenge of 
nature, a decree from the past. Heredity, ancestry, reincarna- 
tion, evolution of nature and Soul- — all depended upon it. It 
was a decree, and it should be fulfilled, before it was too late. 

And then — a knock at the door. It startled Rollins again. 
It seemed so like the banging on the iron door of the bed- 
chamber in the old villa. With nerves highly excited and 
the mind in a stressed attitude, little would startle now. 

Opening the door quicklyj he found his mother, smiling 
and bowing slightly. 



A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS JJ 

"William, my boy, have you forgotten that we were to 
go out today? You have been in here so long! Ruth has 
called and will accompany us to dinner — and you know she 
does so enjoy these occasional — very few — opportunities to be 
in your company. Please do not keep us waiting long or 
we may not be able to find chairs at any table in the 'Chateau 
Bellcastle' downtown. You know they have such wonderful 
holiday dinners with the most alluring music, like the songs 
of the old Troubadours of Languedoc. Come — where have 
you been in your dreams again? You look so tired or nervous 
— and so surprised at what I say. What has it been now? 
Have you solved your problem about the rebirth of the body and 
the reincarnation of the Soul?" 

"Yes, little mother, I have," he said as he put his arms 
about her waist and accompanied her out into the hall, to where 
Ruth was sitting in the golden sunlight of the bay window. 
"I have just found that it takes two to bring about the perfect 
rebirth of both body and Soul — and I was just going back 
over the past — over the yesterdays — back, back to the year — 917! 
In fact, I was thinking of the yesterdays between today and 
January 1st, 917." 

"Why, William," she replied, in a smilling, teasing mood. 
"That would have made a thousand years of yesterdays!" 



THE ROSICRUCIANS 

(Publisher's Note) 

The manuscript of "A Thousand Years of Yesterdays" was 
submitted by the publishers to a number of professional and 
business men and women for the purpose of determining the 
value of so strange a story before publication. This is common 
practice in cases where the publishers are anxious to know whether 
a manuscript in hand deserves publication of a general nature 
or not; and it must be admitted that the nature of this story, 
with its seeming revelations of unpublished principles, warranted 
our careful investigation. 

In addition to the many favorable comments made, there 
were two remarks made by each who read the story, and it 
was apparent that practically every reader would have the 
same points in mind when completing the story. Therefore, 
to avoid a very considerable future correspondence .and to antici- 
pate the questions which our readers would send to us, we 
made an investigation bringing to light the following informa- 
tion. The questions asked were these : 

( i ) Was not this story written by some man who has taken 
this means of giving to the world a system of philosophy or 
an oriental teaching which hitherto has been withheld from 
the uninitiated? 

(2) Where and how can the reader learn more regarding 
the secret bodies of Rosicrucians described or referred to in 
the story? Perhaps the philosophy or mystical principles taught 
by the story are a part of the Rosicrucian secret work. 

The publishers urged the author of the story to give them 
in writing whatever he cared to have published regarding the 
Rosicrucians, and of himself ; but the author was reluctant 
to write anything, because, as he said: "No officer or member 
of the Rosicrucian brotherhood will publicly proclaim his identity 
with the ancient Order of Mystics unless he must do so by 
force of circumstances or for some unselfish purpose." 

However, the publishers have secured the following facts 
and feel that they are not violating any obligation, moral or 
otherwise, in setting them forth here where perhaps only the 
serious minded will find them. 






A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 79 

The complete name of the Rosicrucian brotherhood is: 
"The Ancient and Mystical Order Rosae Cruris," a name which 
is seldom publicly used, held very sacred and often abbreviated 
into its initials to read AMORC. Its time honored symbols, 
used since the days of the old philosophers, are: in all esoteric 
work a gold Cross with a Red Rose at its center; in all exoteric 
work, or for public identification, a Triangle with a Cross 
within it. Its history is traced back to the days of the Egyptian 
secret sects and the early alchemists and mystics. In modern 
times the Order has established and maintained Lodges in various 
countries, including the United States, Canada, Mexico, Puerto 
Rico and South America. There are other Rosicrucian groups 
in America also, we learn, consisting of those who study together, 
using various Rosicrucian names, but having no official con- 
nection with the AMORC and receiving no instructions in 
the peculiar secrets and teachings of the Ancient and Mystical 
Order Rosae Cruris. 

We find that the Lodges of the Order which are duly 
established and chartered as branches of the parent body, hold 
secret sessions weekly in all the principal cities of the United 
States and in many small cities and towns. They use the ancient 
rites and rituals, have the complete system of instruction in all 
the sciences including Psychology, Ontology, Alchemy, Physics, 
Biology, Transcendental Mysticism and modern scientific achieve- 
ment. 

Further, we find that the Order is non-sectarian, occupies a 
high position in both the scientific and educational movements 
of America and is esteemed by the many professional men and 
women, physicians, clergymen, teachers, scientists and others who 
are actively associated with it as officers or members. 

In regard to Mr. Lewis, the author, we were referred to 
the fact that the New International Encyclopaedia, Second Edition, 
published by Dodd, Mead & Co., of New York, uses his name 
in their works as an authority on the history and existence 
of the Rosicrucians. 

More information cannot be easily acquired without one's 
indication of desiring to unite with this great school of philosophy. 
Therefore, if any of our readers sincerely desires to drink freely 
from the fountain head of occult and scientific knowledge, he 
or she will learn how easily this may become possible, by writing 
a frank and sincere letter, expressing the fullest desires, sign- 
ing it in full and then mailing it confidentially to Mr. Thoth 
Amen Ra, 1297 Market Street, San Francisco, California. He 



80 A THOUSAND YEARS OF YESTERDAYS 

will place such letters into the hands of such secretaries or 
others as live nearest to the inquirer, and through them will 
come the strange and secret information which all seekers wait 
for patiently. 

Believing that the author's purpose in writing this story- 
was to reach a great number of sincere seekers, rather than to 
put upon the market a story which would pay him any royalty, 
we have decided to co-operate with such purpose and publish 
the book in as economical form as possible so that the sale 
price might be within the reach of all. This is our apology 
for not dressing the story in as fine and luxurious a binding 
as the story reallv merits. 

THE PUBLISHERS. 



